Metamorphosis
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: AU. Major Harry Pearce meets a young woman named Ruth. Their lives together will change them both, but for Ruth, the journey will utterly transform her into someone she never dreamed she could be. But with Harry by her side to support and encourage her, she can become all she was born to be.
1. Chapter 1

**Metamorphosis**

_Chapter One_

Harry hated army bases. Ones like this, at any rate. There were always too many people running about. Too many names he did not know and would never know. That had been the worst part of rising in the ranks, actually. Harry never felt like he knew who anyone was. It was better to be stationed elsewhere, somewhere where he and his troops were the only ones of their kind in a foreign land, where he knew the name of every single person from the officers to the janitorial staff. Harry Pearce enjoyed being surrounded by people on his team. It was the best part about being in the army, actually. But then of course he couldn't always be abroad. It wasn't how things were done. He was always sent home eventually, stuck in an army office in the capital where he did not know anyone's name, even if they all knew his.

He walked down the hall to a meeting with the intelligence office, lamenting this feeling of being lost on his own home soil, when a young woman turned a corner and crashed straight into him. All the files she carried in her arms came spilling out of her arms and splaying down at her feet.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry," she said, getting down on her hands and knees to pick them up.

Harry immediately knelt down to assist her. "You'd best look where you're going," he teased. "This close to the intelligence office, you don't want to be dropping files. You never know who might pick something up."

The young woman lifted her head to look at him, and she immediately smiled, hearing the jest in his tone.

As soon as she looked at him, Harry felt as though he'd been hit by lightning. Her eyes. They were the palest stormy blue-green-gray he'd ever seen. There was a sparkle of magic in those eyes. Harry would never again look at any other eyes and feel anything remotely like this, not ever again.

She spoke again, and her voice was like music. "I am sorry. I'm actually running late to a meeting, and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Though thankfully, none of these files contains any state secrets," she teased back.

"I'm sorry to delay you, Miss…"

"Ruth. Just Ruth," she insisted.

He smiled. Her name was Ruth. It fit her. Simple and lovely. "I won't keep you from your meeting any further, Ruth," he said, handing the last file to her as they both stood up.

Ruth smiled back at him. "And I'm sorry I bumped into you, Major Pearce."

She had already turned and hurried in the other direction as Harry said, "I'm not." And he wasn't. He wasn't the least bit sorry she bumped into him. Quite the opposite.

It wasn't until he was halfway down the hall, smiling softly to himself over the warm feeling created by the encounter, before he realized that she, like everyone else, already knew his name.

Harry tried not to think too much about it, though he could not stop seeing those beautiful eyes imprinted on his mind. He had a meeting to get to. He was being briefed by the intelligence office for something about his next posting. They hadn't even told him what his next posting would be. He hoped it was far away. Some long assignment in some remote part of the world where he could develop a strategy and see it through. Maybe one of the colonies needed looking after. Those were always good postings. He didn't much like hot climates, but perhaps there was some temperate jungle that needed taming.

But his musings soon ended when he entered the office of the director of intelligence.

"Nice to see you, Sir Harry." The director of intelligence stood and shook his hand.

Christ, but he hated that title. He was a decorated soldier and a proud army officer, but the only title people of power liked to use was his knighthood. He'd been awarded it by the king for leading the defense of the capital during the war. It had been a long time since that was at all relevant, but it stuck nonetheless.

Harry shook the director's hand and greeted him politely, keeping his own grumbling to a minimum. "Shall we begin, then?"

"In just a moment. I have a new analyst who has a rather loose relationship with punctuality," the director explained.

"That doesn't sound like army material," Harry noted with a slight scoff.

The director chuckled slightly, as though laughing over some private joke. "Well, she's rather special, so we do our best to let it slide."

"She?" Harry asked in slight surprise. He didn't know that women were allowed to be analysts, not now that the war was over. He also didn't think that this director would ever allow a woman to rise enough in the ranks to work directly with him.

He gave that same annoying chuckle again. "Yes, strange, isn't it? I've never known a woman to quite so capable."

Harry gave a tight smile—more like a grimace—at that remark. He had known plenty of capable women in his time. His foreign bases tended to be quite full of men, but every so often a female desk soldier would come around and put her male colleagues to shame. Harry usually preferred to work closely with women. He found they were more straightforward than men, less likely to let ego get in the way. Be direct with a woman, and she'll be direct with you. Be direct with a man, and he might get his feelings hurt and lash out. Even the women who cried were at least honest about how they felt. Men, you never quite knew. Ego almost always got in the way.

The door to the office opened, and a man in a suit—not a uniform, but a suit—came inside. A woman followed, and the man in the suit turned and closed the door behind him. The woman sat down in the chair beside Harry. She put down a stack of files on the desk and smiled at him. "Hello again."

"Ruth!" Harry exclaimed.

"You know each other?" the director asked in surprise.

"I ran into Major Pearce in the hallway," Ruth explained.

Harry smiled to see her again. "I thought you said those files didn't have any state secrets?"

"They didn't," she replied. "These are different files. That's why I was late. I was detained in going to the registry to put away the others and pick up these."

He gave a small laugh slightly at that.

The director cleared his throat. "Right then, since you're acquainted, shall we get started?"

Harry sat quietly and listened as the director explained the new overall intelligence structure for foreign bases. Ruth interjected with page after page of research and analysis that she had collected in order to form all the components of the new plan. It was all extremely thorough and well-organized, but it left Harry with one rather glaring question.

"This is all well and good," he commended, "but isn't this all a bit high-level? I still haven't been told where I'm going to next."

The director gave a rather patronizing smile. "I'd have thought it was obvious, Sir Harry. You're not going anywhere."

"I'm not?"

"No. You're the new Head of Foreign Intelligence. This whole plan we've been explaining, you're going to be running it."

To save Harry from having to think too much about that, a sharp knock sounded at the door and the director allowed entry.

The man in the suit popped his head in. "Pardon the interruption, but I was asked to tell Major Pearce that it is three o'clock."

"Damn!" Harry swore.

The director looked at him in slight shock and Ruth stifled a giggle. "Thank you, Mark," she said to the man in the suit.

Harry stood up. "I'm sorry, Director, I have an appointment I cannot be late for."

"That's fine, Sir Harry." The director shook Harry's hand once again. "We can discuss the further details tomorrow. Shall we say ten o'clock? Ruth, that work for you?"

"I think so, yes," she replied. "I may have to check."

But that did not work at all for Harry. "I will be unavailable tomorrow," he said. "I can do Thursday at ten."

"Fine. We shall resume on Thursday at ten," the director agreed.

And with that, Harry gave a friendly nod to Ruth, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach when she smiled at him, and turned to hurry out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

Harry was late, and he knew it. He really had tried to be on time. It honestly wasn't his fault that the director of intelligence had delayed him. But he couldn't very well make that excuse for being late. They wouldn't believe him. He always had a good excuse for being late, and they never cared. And Harry really couldn't blame them.

His car pulled up to the train station to find two children with suitcases sitting on a bench looking extremely unhappy.

"You're late!" came a sharp voice as soon as he opened the door.

He sighed sadly. "Yes, I know. I am sorry. I got here as soon as I could."

A girl of twelve with bright blonde hair and a sour expression just huffed in frustration and walked past Harry with her suitcase in hand. Her younger brother, only ten, was looking rather heartbroken himself.

"Hello, Graham," Harry said gently. "Did you have a good term?"

Graham just sighed and followed his sister. Neither of the children spoke to their father as they climbed in the back seat of the car.

When Harry joined them and instructed the driver to take them to his house, Catherine asked, "Who's looking after us this time?"

"I'm taking the whole day off tomorrow. I thought we might go to the zoo," Harry suggested, hoping this idea would take some of the sting off his tardiness.

Graham brightened significantly, and even Catherine had a flicker of pleasure. But she quickly remembered her original question. "And after that?"

Harry hesitated, not yet knowing how to fully respond. "Things might be changing very soon. So we'll see."

"Changing how?" Graham asked.

There was not the same suspicion in his voice that his sister possessed, for which Harry was quite grateful. Graham was an earnest child. Though who could say how much longer that would last.

Harry explained, "It looks like I may be staying in the capital for my next posting."

That caught Catherine's attention. "Does that mean we won't have to go to boarding school anymore?" she asked somewhat desperately.

"Don't you like your school?" Harry asked. He paid a fortune for the bloody place, and he'd tried very hard to get them into a good one. It was very highly rated, and it was one of the few in the country that had both boys and girls, since he had not wanted to split up Catherine and Graham when he had to send them away. He'd hoped that staying together would make it easier on them. But it was still boarding school, no matter how good it was.

"No," she replied quite resolutely.

Harry tried to keep from rolling his eyes in exasperation. He had never been much good at parenting, and having his efforts seemingly wasted was quite frustrating. It was one of the reasons Jane had divorced him all those years ago. Harry had left her for three whole years during the war when Catherine and Graham were both little. He hadn't even been present for their births. But the work he'd been doing had been so vital. He'd been decorated and knighted for it. But all Jane wanted was a family. A husband to love her and raise her children with her. And Harry Pearce was not the right man for it. Oh he'd loved her in his way. And he loved his children more than life. But he was just never there. His work took him away, and he was content to let it. When Jane had asked for a divorce, Harry had granted her whatever she wanted. He knew all too well what a rotten husband he'd been. He hazarded to guess that she knew he'd been an unfaithful husband, too. But then, once the divorce was final and Harry had been set free of his guilt for being an absent husband and father, Jane had gotten sick. So sick, in fact, that she'd died before Harry had made it back from overseas. The children were in his sole custody now. And because he was abroad more often than not, they had been sent to boarding school. Which Catherine, apparently, had hated.

"We can find you a school here," Harry told her. "And a nanny to watch you both while I'm working. But we will all be able to live on the old house together." Jane had let him keep their house, since he was never there and she'd not wanted the painful memories of it. Now, they'd all be living there once again. Together, this time.

Just as they had during every school break for the last three years, Graham and Catherine both went upstairs and into their respective bedrooms and shut the doors without a single word to their father. Harry watched them go with a sad sort of resignation. Hopefully now that he'd be home more—in that he would be living in this country for the foreseeable future—he could take some steps to improve things with the children. They were still young, weren't they? It wasn't too late? He certainly hoped not.

"Welcome back, Sir Harry."

"How many times do I have to remind you not to use that stupid title?" he responded, smiling softly as he turned toward the speaker.

"Major Pearce, then."

"Malcolm," Harry growled warningly.

"You know, the other butlers don't have as many problems with their employers," Malcolm pointed out.

"Other employers don't have the same affection for their butlers as I've got for you. You're godfather to my children, for Christ's sake!" Harry reminded him.

Malcolm smiled at that. He had not been a butler when he had become godfather to the Pearce children. He had been a technical officer in Harry's regiment back when Harry was only a lieutenant, before Harry had even met Jane. That was nearly twenty years ago now. How the time seemed to fly by. The war stole so many years from them. So many friends and so much time. Malcolm had not coped with it all as well as Harry had. He asked for a discharge five years ago now, and Harry had graciously granted it with the caveat that he did not know how he would get by without Malcolm by his side. So in return, Malcolm had offered to work in Harry's house; Malcolm's father and grandfather had been in service, and it was noble work that Malcolm felt suited him well in his post-army life. Harry had already been divorced at that point and only hosting the children when he was in the country. But now with Jane dead and gone, Malcolm had stepped up as their godfather and butler and childminder all in one. And he wouldn't have traded it for anything.

"I don't suppose you've heard the news?" Harry asked.

"What news would that be?"

Harry walked toward his private study and gestured for Malcolm to follow. "Let's have a drink and I can tell you."

The two men settled on opposite ends of the sofa with their glasses of scotch. Harry explained his very odd meeting with the Intelligence Director. He left out any detail about the analyst, Ruth. Harry had quite a bit of thinking to do about her still, and he preferred to do so all on his own.

"And they want you to oversee foreign intelligence?" Malcolm asked in surprise.

"Seems like it. God knows why. I don't want the bloody job. I want to run my regiments on my bases as far away from here as I can manage," Harry grumbled.

"But surely this is a promotion worthy of your talents, Harry. You're a born leader and you have more of a knack for orchestrating and organizing complex operations than anyone else in the army, let alone at your position."

Harry just grumbled a bit more at that.

"And besides, you know how we miss you when you're away," Malcolm added.

That was a point Harry did not like to think about. But Malcolm was quite correct. Harry missed out on so much by insisting on his foreign deployments. Malcolm managed the house better than Harry could have dreamed, but not getting to have his closest friend and confidant with him like they used to be was never easy. And the children, of course. Harry needed to be a better father to them. And the most basic thing he could do for that was to just be at home for them. Shipping them off to boarding school broke his heart, but it was all he could do at the time. Now, things could be different.

As if reading his mind, Malcolm said softly, "They're growing up fast, Harry. They've already lost their mother. And they don't feel like they've ever had much of a father."

"Yes, I know," Harry replied sadly.

"Take the position," Malcolm counseled. "Be all you can be for the Intelligence Department. And be with Catherine and Graham when you're here."

Harry took the last sip of his scotch. "I'm going to take them to the zoo tomorrow."

"They'll like that. Graham likes bears," Malcolm said. He took the last sip of his own scotch and stood up. "And now I'd better get that vegetable lasagna into the oven."

"Why vegetable lasagna?" Harry asked, not able to keep the tone of disgust out of his voice.

"Catherine's a vegetarian now," Malcolm informed him.

"Oh Christ," Harry lamented in return.

Malcolm just chuckled and left his glass on the bar cart before making his way to the kitchen. Harry poured himself another drink.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

Harry return to the Intelligence Department on Thursday just in time for his ten o'clock meeting. And, shockingly, he was in a good mood. At supper the night he'd picked the children up from the station, he told them he was going to take the job at the capital, and they could all stay in the house together. That made him rather popular for the moment, and Catherine even cheered when he promised to phone the school first thing in the morning to inform them that the Pearce children would not be returning.

The good feeling continued through the next day when he—and not with Malcolm to assist him, as had been his initial instinct with the situation—took the children to the zoo. Malcolm had been right, Graham loved bears. Only the grizzly bears were not visible in their enclosure, which was almost enough to prompt tears from Graham. But he figured out he also loved lions and elephant, so the day was saved. Catherine, now a vegetarian and very smug about it, grumbled initially about the treatment of animals and how dare zoos ever exist and take animals from their natural habitats. That problem was rectified when Harry found a sign explaining all the good that the zoo does for endangered animals with its breeding programs and taking in animals in need of rescue and rehabilitation that would not otherwise survive in the wild. He even found a zookeeper to speak to Catherine and reassure her that the animals were well cared for and were not ever taken from the wild unless orphaned or injured. After that, she was much happier about the whole thing.

Today, though, he had to leave his children at home with Malcolm and come to the base in order to officially accept his new position and finish being briefed on the finer points involved. And it did not escape his attention that he'd get to see that Ruth again. She was extremely bright and possessed a voice that he enjoyed listening to. He'd be happy to have her brief him at any time.

He smirked to himself as he walked tall and purposefully down the halls. His phrasing made his mind wander. She was quite pretty. Obviously no film star or supermodel, but women working in government tend to be plain. And even wearing her bland brown uniform with her hair pulled back in a simple style, Harry had found her to be a breath of fresh air. Beautiful fresh air. With eyes like the sea.

Harry needed to reel himself back in. He was probably close to twice Ruth's age. And if he was going to be working with her, he needed to stop any thoughts of personal feelings dead in his tracks. He'd made mistakes like that in the past. And, thankfully, he'd learned from them.

It was ten on the dot when he greeted the director's secretary. She told him to go right in.

"Ah, good morning, Sir Harry," the director greeted pleasantly.

Harry grumbled slightly at that. "Good morning, sir," he replied, shaking the man's hand.

"Have a seat and we'll get right back into things." The director pointed to the chair and took his own seat.

"Should we wait for Ruth?" Harry asked.

The director shook his head. "No, I'm afraid Ruth is detained with other matters at the moment. We'll have to carry on without her. But I do have her report for you to take with you. Should answer any further questions you have."

Harry nodded and sat there and listened to the man drone on and on about the goals for the department and the role Harry and his agency would play and the expectations for him and for the results they hoped to achieve. To Harry's mind, a pointless endeavor. But he made no show of any displeasure. He steepled his fingers in his lap and kept his expression neutral. He'd spent a lot of time making sure that others did not know his true feelings, and that skill had saved his life on more than one occasion. This one wasn't life or death, to be sure, but Harry knew he was saving his career by keeping his annoyance at the pompous, lecturing director to himself.

Finally, they were finished. Over an hour later. Christ, the agony of it. The director gave Harry the file with Ruth's report and shook his hand. "Ellen will show you to your new office," the director told him. "You can get yourself settled and tomorrow, you'll meet your staff."

And with that, he was free to go. The secretary, Ellen, led him down a series of hallways and through a set of double doors labeled FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE. Inside was a bullpen of about a dozen desks with workstations. The walls were lined with file cabinets. And in the back of the room was an office with a large window to oversee everything. The door to that office was labeled DIRECTOR.

"Here you are, sir," Ellen said, turning on the light for him. The bullpen contained only two people working, placing files into the cabinets and preparing the workspace for the department to officially begin its work the next day. Harry's office was stuffy and horribly decorated. Though he did like the window that allowed him to see and be seen—he appreciated interaction with those he worked with and being available for what they might need from him—and he strangely found that the back wall painted red was actually a nice touch. The rest of it, he'd find a way to redecorate or fill with his own things to as to not find himself hating every bit of his new office.

Harry gave the office a swift overview and then turned back to Ellen. "Thank you very much," he said politely.

Ellen left the keys to the department and to Harry's office sitting on the desk before she left. Harry decided to indulge for a moment and sit down in the huge leather swivel chair. It was surprisingly comfortable. And the desk wasn't so bad, now that he was sitting at it. A bit cold and basic, but it would do. The wood was a little too light, but with the red wall and leather chair, perhaps the lightness would be appreciated. And if Harry's past work habits were anything to go by, the desk would soon be covered in paperwork for him to place in neat, organized piles.

He opened the file that would give him more information on his new job, but quickly closed it again. He could look at it later. Harry had a routine for new postings, and even though he wasn't stationed in a foreign base, he saw no reason to deviate from what he would normally do during the first day on the job. It was time to meet the people. Yes, his proper staff would not arrive till tomorrow. But he could get a good start on things now.

First, he introduced himself to the two men organizing the files that would make up his department's first line of resources. Each man in turn gave Harry his name—Marcus and Oliver—and explained his usual role. They both worked down in the registry, and they had been spending the last week carbon copying the files that would be transferred to this department. Harry thanked them for their efforts and let them get back to work.

He wandered down the corridor to what looked like a typing pool. But there weren't just typists there. Men and women of all sorts with stacks of files, some with books, others typing madly. But all at rows and rows of desks in neat, straight lines. Harry did not want to interrupt their work, so he did not linger. He turned to leave before he distracted anyone.

"Oh, hello."

He heard the voice just after he crashed into whoever possessed it. But in an instant, Harry knew who possessed it. "Hello, Ruth," he greeted with a smile. "How are you today?"

"Very well, Major Pearce," she replied, taking a step back from him.

Harry noticed that the same man in the suit who had given Harry the message about the time the other day was standing against the wall a few paces behind Ruth. He chose not to question it at that particular moment. He turned his attention back to Ruth. "I missed you at my briefing this morning," he said. "But I was told you had more pressing matters to attend to."

"Yes. I hope my report was sufficient in lieu of my presence," she replied.

"I'm sure it is exemplary. But I'd much rather have you."

Ruth blushed bright pink and averted her eyes. Only then did Harry realized what he'd said.

"I mean," he corrected, "I'd much rather have you deliver the report in person. I thought you had a very good way of explaining things." _And I like watching you while you speak_, he added in his own mind. That, much like his annoyance with the director, would remain unexpressed. "Perhaps you can give my next briefing."

"I'm not assigned to Foreign Intelligence, unfortunately," Ruth told him. "My desk is over there, actually."

Harry's gaze followed where she pointed and saw that her desk was empty of a person but absolutely full up with stacks of files and books and loose pages in the kind of chaos that would cause Harry to absolutely lose his mind if it were his desk in that state.

"I'm in general army analysis," she continued. "So I'm just available for whatever research and analysis is needed on particular projects I'm tasked to. And the director tasked me with assisting in the development of the new Foreign Intelligence department."

"Oh I see," Harry replied. He hardly heard what she said, as he was far too enchanted by the way she spoke.

"It was really nice to see you again, Major Pearce," Ruth said. "But I'm afraid I have to get back to work. I was out this morning on other matters, you see."

"Of course," he said. He gave an understanding nod and stood aside so that Ruth could go to her desk and get back to work. He watched her take her seat and felt a warm bubbling feeling when she looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back.

A heavy hand appeared on his shoulder. "Anything I can help you with, Major Pearce?" the man in the suit asked.

If Harry were not the man he was with the background he'd had, he might have been made to feel nervous by the confrontation. But as it was, he just shrugged the hand off his shoulder. Very un-army to have physical contact with an officer like that. Though this man was in a suit and not a uniform, and that told Harry a great deal. "No, thank you," he replied.

Harry turned and walked back down the corridor in the direction he came. But he did not go to the Foreign Intelligence department. Instead, he continued back through the winding maze to the director's office. He quickly asked Ellen if he could have a moment with the director. She went to announce his presence and then let him in.

"Sir Harry, is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing wrong. But I wanted to ask if you could have Ruth transferred to my department. I'd like to have her on my team. She's already done so much work in setting up the new department, I think she'd be invaluable to continue on and help get us up and running."

The director hesitated. That was odd. Harry had expected his mildly manic speech to be met with a 'yes, of course' or a resounding 'no,, certainly not.' But instead, the director looked a bit uncomfortable. "I don't know that we can change her assignment."

Harry frowned. "Why not? You're the director. She's just an analyst."

A small smirk appeared on the man's face. "She's not just an analyst, Sir Harry. And I'm surprised you didn't know."

"Know what?"

"Well, they keep to themselves for the most part. But you, I'd have expected to know…" he mused.

Harry felt his jaw clench in frustration. "Know what?" he asked again.

The director explained, "We call her Ruth at her insistence, but her proper name is Princess Louisa of Leister. It was her grandfather, the King, who gave you that knighthood."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

How it happened, she could only guess. But she was not consulted on the matter—which she appreciated in a small way—and was only given an order from the supervisor of army analysis. "Ruth, you're to report to Foreign Intelligence. You've been transferred to the permanent staff."

And that was all there was to it. She packed up a box of all her things from her desk, most of which was unneeded clutter that she'd throw away when she set up her new desk. Tom tried to insist that he carry the box, but she wouldn't allow that. The line between them was not as clearly drawn as she would have liked. He was her bodyguard, which she still felt she did not need, and he took his duty seriously. But Ruth took equally seriously her ability to have a job and be as normal a person as she was allowed. That was also why she made people call her Ruth, as her family did, and not 'Princess Louisa' or 'Your Highness.' And she called him Tom and not Mr. Quinn, which she knew annoyed him. But he worked for her, so he listened. Well, technically he worked for her grandfather, as all the Royal Guard did, but he was assigned to protect Ruth, and everyone knew that Ruth could convince her grandfather to let her do almost anything.

She carried her box of things down the hall with Tom following behind her as always. Her stoic shadow. It would be interesting to see where Major Pearce put Tom in the new bullpen. Ruth certainly didn't want him sitting next to her desk. In army analysis, he'd had a chair against the wall where he could watch the entrance and the windows and Ruth from his vantage point. He guarded the door when she went to meetings. And she hoped he'd be told to just guard the door here. It unnerved people to have him sitting there sometimes.

Ruth did allow Tom to open the door to Foreign Intelligence for her, as her hands were full. And apparently that was some kind of protocol that he was supposed to open doors first. But Ruth did not expect to walk into a briefing.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, when the room went silent and every head turned to stare at her.

"That's alright, Ruth," Major Pearce said, waving her forward. "Nice of you to join us. Your desk is over there." He pointed to a desk in the back of the room, right across from the large windowed office that belonged to the head of the department who, in this case, was Major Pearce himself.

Major Pearce then continued with whatever he was saying, which seemed to be an introduction of sorts. Ruth placed her box on top of the desk beside the nameplate that read 'Louisa Ruth' which she knew was better than her proper name and title, but she still did not entirely like. Also on the desk was a file folder that she did not open just yet.

"Our immediate task is getting the department properly up and running. And that means developing a communication procedure with our foreign bases and a means of transmitting information. On each of your desks are the files with your individual assignments. Each of you is going to be in charge of a particular part of the world, about three or four bases apiece. I suggest taking today to familiarize yourselves with those files as well as with the database we've already compiled from copies out of the registry." He pointed to the rows and rows of file cabinets on the far wall. "Everything should be well-organized and easy to find. And if you have any questions, you're to report to your immediate superior who is listed in your assignments. Any questions?"

There was a small murmur and the shaking of heads.

"Right, off we go," Major Pearce said, releasing his department to their work.

Ruth did not draw attention to herself as much as she could manage. She went back to her desk and sat down to put her things away. Which mostly consisted of shoving things into drawers and leaving the rubbish in the box to be disposed of later. She tried not to pay attention to what Tom was doing. Leave him to sort himself out. Her colleagues were all already reviewing their files, and Ruth did not want to get behind.

"Getting settled?"

The voice startled her, causing a stapler to fall out of her hand and land with a loud clang inside the metal drawer of the desk. "Ye-yes," she stammered, looking up to see Major Pearce standing over her.

The smallest hint of a smile crossed his lips. Oh his lips. She should not be staring at his lips. But how could she not? The smile quickly went away, however, and he continued speaking. "Mr. Quinn has requested to be stationed by the front entrance, but I've insisted he remain in the hallway. Our work is likely to be of a sensitive nature and I do not approve of anyone other than army personnel in this department without an otherwise urgent requirement. Is there an urgent requirement for him to be inside the department at all times?" he asked.

"No, sir," Ruth responded. She could not tell him how glad she was that he wasn't kowtowing to Tom's overly cautious approach. Most people in the army deferred to members of the Royal Guard, particularly when it came to her. But Major Pearce was a horse of a different color, it seemed. And Ruth liked it that way.

He gave a curt nod. "Good. I shall inform him of that. I'll let you review the materials, though you were the one who drafted all the assignments, so it should not take you too long. You'll need to speak to your supervisor as soon as you're prepared to do so."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

With that, Major Pearce walked away. She watched for a moment as Tom was given the news of his placement. Oh Tom was not happy. Well, that was just too bad. He could complain to the Head of the Royal Guard, who would in turn report it to the King, who would in turn come talk to Ruth directly about it. And Ruth would explain the situation and that she was now working with Major Pearce. Sir Harry Pearce. And the King would recall the heroism that earned Major Pearce his knighthood, and that would be the end of the discussion. Ruth would not be in danger when working in an office at the capitol army base with Sir Harry Pearce.

Ruth quickly turned her attention to the file folder with her assignments. She had, as Major Pearce had said, prepared all of the files for the assignments. But she had not anticipated being a member of the team, so she did not know what she was going to be assigned.

To her surprise, the top of the page read 'Operational Liaison' which was not a position Ruth had created when she developed the structure for the department. But as she read on, she quickly understood what it was she would be doing. And she smiled. Particularly when she got to the bottom of the last page and saw the name of her supervisor. She took a notepad and her file folder and went to speak to the supervisor, since she was ready.

She did not knock on the door to Major Pearce's office, though in hindsight maybe she should have. He looked up from the papers on his desk—very neat papers, she noticed—and gave a small nod in welcome.

"Ready to begin?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

He gestured for her to take a seat, which she did. "Well, to start off, no one here is to call me 'sir' for any reason. Respect for rank is one thing, but I've found that formality gets in the way of proper collaboration on a team. I may be the director of this department, but you and everyone else here will call me Harry. That was part of my introduction that you missed with your tardiness."

"I am sorry," she interrupted anxiously. "I wasn't told I was being transferred until I walked in, and then I needed to clear out my desk."

"It's fine, Ruth," he assured her and quickly moved on. "Now then, you've reviewed your assignment?"

"Yes. Though I didn't create this position in my initial report. Who did?" she asked.

"I did. Upon reviewing your report, I immediately saw the one gap in the structure. And you have been assigned to fill it."

"I see," she said warily.

"You will be an analyst still. Sort of the head analyst in the department. Everyone's positions and responsibilities are largely their own, and they'll work together. But you will oversee them. And you report directly to me. I have found that I work best when I have a right hand of sorts to help implement and oversee my decisions. I can handle the higher ups and the politicians and whatever else on behalf of the department, but I need someone to be in charge when I'm not here, and I need someone I can trust."

"And you've chosen me?"

"You created the department, Ruth. Who better to make it function than you?"

It was a great compliment he was paying her, and she knew it. And despite her other responsibilities outside of her army position, she had every confidence that she could do exactly what Major Pearce—Harry—expected of her. "I think you've made a good choice," she said.

He laughed a bit at that. He had a wheezy sort of laugh that made her feel warm inside. "I don't need you to bolster me and parrot whatever I say and do, and in fact I'd prefer if between us you speak your mind about my decisions when you disagree, but I'll accept the praise for this one."

"Good," she replied. "And for what it's worth, I don't have any problem disagreeing with you when there's cause for it."

"I'm sure I'll eat my words in the future when such a disagreement does occur, but for the moment, I'm glad."

Ruth smiled. She was glad of it, too.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

Ruth spent her first year as Operational Liaison in the Army Foreign Intelligence Department absolutely loving her job more than she ever imagined possible. She enjoyed it and she was bloody good at it, too. She'd never really felt as though she had a proper place and a proper purpose before. Her whole life, to that point, was like a book already published but with every other page blank. So much was preordained for her, but there was so much she had to figure out for herself.

She was a princess, she knew. The only child of the younger son of the king. That made her a princess. She was born in a palace. She had servants and bodyguards to tend and protect her from the moment she drew her first breath. But she never quite felt like she knew what to do in the royal world. After all, it would be her Uncle Edmund who would become king when Grandfather passed. And he'd just gotten married two years before, so their child would be the next heir. Ruth was not born to become queen, and no one had trained her to do so. But her mother had died when she was very young and her grandmother died while Ruth was off at school. The only princess she had as a model was her uncle's wife whom Ruth had never really liked and tried to avoid as much as she could. Besides, she was only five years older than Ruth, which did not give any incentive to take the younger princess under her wing. Privately, Ruth and her father both thought Uncle Edmund's choice of wife was in extremely poor taste, but she was young enough to produce an heir when one would be needed, so they just kept their distance.

Her father, Prince James of Leister, was raised, as Ruth was, knowing that he would never become a monarch. His sense of formality was therefore much less than his parents or his older brother, and he had raised Ruth to be as normal as possible. She'd been educated at the finest schools rather than being privately tutored. She'd been allowed to live in a small house of her own in the capitol with one servant and one bodyguard to give her some semblance of a normal life. She'd been encouraged to find a job within the government that she might enjoy, something that would allow her to serve her country in a respectable way but allow her enough flexibility to fulfill her royal duties when necessary. Dad often told her he wished he could have become a doctor, but he wasn't allowed. So when Ruth had shown an aptitude and interest in analysis, he had been able to work with the Director of Intelligence to get her a job she wanted and to ensure she was given no special treatment beyond the requisite time off for those royal duties.

Such royal duties were thankfully few and far between, thankfully. But every so often there was a factory opening that she presided over. A maiden voyage of a ship that required a member of the royal family to smash a bottle of champagne for. A foreign diplomat visiting for a state dinner where she had to wear some uncomfortable dress and make small talk. Dad got her out of as much as he could, but as he told her, "You're much prettier than me, Ruth, and seeing you makes people happy." Well, she didn't know about that, but she never refused when Dad or Grandfather asked her to do something.

But for that first year of working as Operational Liaison, she was mostly unhindered by royal things. She could just be Ruth, overseeing the workings of the Foreign Intelligence Department, translating missives from their various bases, making reports to Harry, and solving any problems that might have arisen. She was lucky that none of her absences—usually half a day in the morning or afternoon here and there—did not coincide with Harry's own absences from the department. He always told her if he would be out, and she was able to rearrange if necessary. She assumed he was away for meetings with politicians and such, or tending to personal matters, but she did not pry. He did not ask her what she did when she was out of the office either. His personal life was a mystery to her, which left her vaguely curious but not overly concerned. His complete lack of interest in her life as Princess Louisa a comfort, and she was mildly worried that if she tried to get to know him in any more than a professional capacity, he might want to do the same to her. And having her boss in any way involved in royal things would not end well, she knew.

It did not occur to her, however, that Harry's disinterest in her royal life might mean that he was unaware of it until she was forced to make an unusual request and was met with an even more unusual response. At the end of a long day, she went into his office—always without knocking, as had become her habit over the last year.

"What is it, Ruth?" he asked, not even looking up from the file on his desk.

"I'm afraid I need to be away for a few days," she said. The royal tour was coming up, and even though Grandfather was perfectly capable of travelling on his own still, he decided he did not want to be entirely alone on the journey. Each member of the immediate family would be joining him for various legs of the trip. Ruth had been chosen to join him in Gambon, one of the tropical island colonies. She absolutely despised the idea, but obviously wasn't given much of a choice. At least it was only three days. Poor Dad was stuck with two whole weeks touring the plantations of Mahrain.

Harry looked up at her. "How many days is 'a few?'" he asked.

"Five," she replied. The travel would take a full day on either end of the three days in Gambon, she knew.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Why?"

"I've been requested on the royal tour in Gambon."

He gave her a funny look at that. "What for?"

Ruth did not know how to answer that. She thought that Harry might not know her royal status if he was asking her why she was requested to be on the royal tour. But he probably did know, she reasoned. He probably knew and was just wondering her purpose on the trip. Which, she realized, she had equal right to wonder. "I don't actually know," she said honestly. Because other than 'Grandfather told me to join him in Gambon,' she did not know what she was supposed to be doing.

He hummed indiscriminately. "Well, obviously you can't very well refuse. When are you leaving?"

"Thursday."

"Damn," he swore under his breath. "I need to be away that weekend as well. I don't like the idea of neither of us being available."

She hesitated, unsure of what to do.

But Harry just sighed. "Hopefully nothing will require me to come in, but I'll have to give someone my home number."

"I am sorry, Harry. I hope you won't be taken away from anything important," she told him earnestly.

He gave a soft smile. "It certainly isn't your fault, Ruth. And so long as I am home for the birthday dinner, I shouldn't be in too much trouble."

Ruth assumed he was referring to a wife or partner of some kind, which made her feel uncomfortable in a manner she did not like at all, but her curiosity was piqued. "Well, I hope it all works out."

"Thank you. And you enjoy your trip. Gambon is a very beautiful island," he said.

"Oh that's right, you were stationed there for a while," she recalled.

He looked at her with that familiar curious expression. "Have you memorized my personnel file?"

"Just your service history," she replied.

Harry smiled. "You are far too clever for your own good, Ruth. Thank god we've got you working here. I daresay the enemy would make good use of you."

"I think it would be far more likely for me to not work in intelligence at all instead of working for the enemy."

"Well, that would be a travesty for the whole world, not having you in intelligence."

Ruth was taken aback by the compliment and the quiet tone in which it was conveyed in equal measure. "I…erm…thank you," she stammered in response.

"Before you leave for your trip, just be sure to…"

"Finish the report summaries for the southern colonies and get the far east translations to Harold. Already finished," she replied, cutting off his reminder.

He nodded in satisfaction. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Ruth."

"You'd need to hire two or three people to take my place, I think," she teased.

Harry laughed at that, making that joyful wheezy sound that made her so inexplicably happy. "It would take at least three, I'm sure, and things still wouldn't be as efficient and much less fun."

"Well, I agree, this job is far too fun for me to ever give it up. No need to worry there, Harry."

"Good."

They lapsed into a mildly awkward silence with Harry watching her in a way that made her cheeks grow warm. "Well," she said, looking away from his dark, shining eyes and down at her shoes, "I should probably let you finish things up."

"Have dinner with me."

Ruth looked up sharply. "That's quite a conversation shift," she quipped, not knowing what else to say. Hadn't he just been talking about being in trouble for possibly missing a birthday dinner?

"After you get back from your trip," he added. "Think about it. There's a restaurant I think you'll like."

"Are…aren't you married?" she blurted in her confusion.

He raised his blank left hand. "My wife had the good sense to divorce me a long time ago and the misfortune to die shortly thereafter. I suppose you did just read my service record and not my personal information," he mused.

Ruth just stared at him. Stunned.

"As I said, think about it. Give me an answer when you get back."

She couldn't think of anything else to say, so she just nodded mutely and turned to leave his office and return to her desk. Good lord, she had quite a lot to think about.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

"You're quiet, Ruthie."

She smiled, turning away from where she was staring out the window to look at her grandfather. He was the only one who ever called her Ruthie. Her father and everyone else in the family and all her friends—however many of them she could claim to have—and all her colleagues called her Ruth. Her first name, Louisa, was only ever used in a formal capacity with her proper title. Princess Louisa. She felt like another person sometimes. Ruth herself was just Ruth. But she was her grandfather's only grandchild, and he had doted on her all her life. And he always called her Ruthie.

"I'm used to you not ever ceasing your excited, stammering prattle. What's this new pensive nonsense you're doing?" he asked.

Ruth shook her head with a little chuckle. Not one to beat around the bush, her grandfather. "I'm fine, honestly. I've just had a lot on my mind."

"Well, we're stuck in this car for a while longer before we arrive at the village for my speech," he replied. "Care to share?"

She hesitated only briefly, weighing the options. On the one hand, she did not want to discuss her personal life with her grandfather, who was the King, after all. But on the other hand, she had a feeling he might provide a good perspective. So she decided to try it in a roundabout sort of way. "Do you remember Harry Pearce?" she asked.

He frowned, thinking. "Army?"

"Yes. He's a major. You knighted him after the war," Ruth reminded.

"Ah yes. I liked him. Extremely strong sense of duty. Nearly died a hundred times over protecting the capitol. And his entire regiment survived thanks to his strategies and quick leadership."

Ruth smiled at that. She'd read all about what Harry had done in the war, of course. And it absolutely warmed her heart. Because that was Harry to a T. Decisive and duty-bound. He was a wonderful leader. A wonderful boss. There was no doubt in her mind that he deserved to be Sir Harry, even if he never used the title at all. "So you like him?" she pressed to her grandfather.

"Nothing not to like, as far as I can recall," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Well he is my boss," she pointed out.

"Yes, I know that, Ruthie. But what should it matter what I think of him?"

She bit her lip, realizing she'd backed herself into a corner. "I was just curious about your opinion. I know he was a good soldier and he's a good head of Foreign Intelligence, but I just…I guess I was wondering if there was any more to him."

Her grandfather gave her a very curious look. "You like him."

Ruth's eyes grew to the size of dinner plate. "I…"

He laughed, "Oh Ruthie, you're a grown woman! There's nothing wrong with a bit of romantic feeling. By the time I was your age, I'd been married with two children already! You were already born by the time your mother was your age. We all know you value your independence and your education and your work, but we were starting to worry about you."

"Worry!?" This conversation was not at all going as she'd envisioned. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to leap out of the moving car and hide in a hole in the forests of Gambon.

"No man has ever really turned your head, has he?"

"I've dated!" she defended. The whole thing felt like some sort of nightmarish hallucination, discussing her romantic life with her grandfather.

"Have you?"

"Yes, at school, I had two different boyfriends. One of them turned out to only want a bit of fame and fortune while the other one left me for my flatmate. And then since I've been with the army, I dated a journalist who turned out to be very unintelligent and a business investor who was very clever because he was also dating two other women at the same time." The words tripped out of her mouth faster than she could rein them in. Good lord, she should not be saying these things!

"Well I'm glad to hear you've not lived like a nun," Grandfather reasoned. A tiny smirk appeared on his face. "What was unintelligent about the journalist?"

Ruth blushed. "I thought he didn't care about my position. Turns out he had absolutely no idea who I was, and when I finally told him, he couldn't believe it and genuinely accused me of lying to him."

That made him laugh out loud. "Well, I'm glad you got rid of him. Sounds like a right wanker."

"Grandfather!" she chided, laughing at his use of slang.

"I'm an old man, Ruthie, no one cares what I say anymore."

She put her hand on his arm. "I care. Very much. I just didn't know you called people wankers."

"Only when they deserve it."

Ruth laughed again and kissed his cheek. "You're really wonderful, you know that?"

"That's why they've let me stay king this long."

"I don't think your monarchy exists because of your good humor," she teased.

"Actually, it does." His tone turned quite serious all of a sudden. "I know you don't do many royal things, and that's perfectly fine, since you won't ever be queen. But as a member of the royal family, it's vital you recognize that we are only in power because it is the will of the people. Revolutions have happened before. Coups and assassinations and overthrows of governments. Our government and our colonies are created and ruled in my name and will be ruled in Edmund's name after me, but that is only by the grace of the people who allow us to lead them. The crown stands for nothing more and nothing less than stability and eternity. No matter whose head the crown sits on, it balances only because it is the will of the people that it stay there. If I abused my power or became some tyrannical dictator, the monarchy would collapse. Being a good king and being a good man are one in the same. But not every good man would be a good king, and that is what gives me pride in my position and nothing else."

Ruth listened to his small speech feeling an overwhelming sense of something she could not quite comprehend. She had always felt equally resigned and resentful to her family's position as royalty. It was a burden and annoyance to her and little else. But hearing the view Grandfather had of it, the reverence he had for the crown and for his privilege to wear it…Ruth felt a pride all her own for the first time. And she was quite honored, now, to be asked to accompany him for these few days.

"Now then," he said, shifting the mood back to something much lighter. "Tell me about Sir Harry."

"He doesn't like being called Sir Harry. Just Harry," Ruth told him.

"Oh? Not a fan of the title I bestowed up on him?"

She knew he was teasing, so she chuckled and explained, "No, he just doesn't put much stock in formality like that. He's never once treated me as anything other than just Ruth, his analyst. He doesn't lord his position over anyone. Maybe that's like you," she realized suddenly. "He earns the respect of those around him and does not go about reminding people of his accolades. Quite the opposite actually."

Grandfather smiled. "That," he said quite sincerely, "is the makings of a very good man."

"I think so," Ruth agreed.

"And you've been working for him for over a year now. I'm sure this isn't a new realization."

"No, I liked him from the start," Ruth said, recalling the first moment she met Harry, bumping into him in the hallway and the way he teased her and made her smile and caused butterflies whenever he looked at her. "And I love working with him. But…"

"Yes?"

"He asked me to go to dinner with him."

"Oh I see."

"I thought he was married, actually. But he told me his wife divorced him just after the war and then died a few years ago. And he…well, I can't see why he would want to go out with me."

"Can't you?"

"Well Harry doesn't care that I'm a princess. And that's really the only remarkable think about me."

"Louisa Ruth Emilia Catherine!" he snapped. The use of her full name immediately set her on edge. "You are quite the most remarkable woman in the world, princess or not. You are absolutely brilliant, you are immensely kind, you possess empathy and resilience in uncommon amounts, and you are a very beautiful girl. And I don't just say all of that as your grandfather, though I think that does put me in a very unique position to see in you all the wonderful bits of your father and your mother and your grandmother and me. And that blend makes you absolutely wonderful. I don't care what all the wankers you've dated before have led you to believe, my girl, but Harry Pearce would be lucky for the honor of getting to go out with you. And don't you forget it."

The scolding tone of those beautiful compliments nearly reduced Ruth to tears. She did not quite know what to say. "I…I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I don't really know," she admitted.

"Well, enough of that. I think that if you like Harry and you want to go out with him, you should. I know he's your boss, but these things can work if you're both smart about it, which I think you are. If you don't want to go out with him, thank him for the invitation and politely decline. I'm sure he won't hold it against you. Do you want to go out with him?"

"Yes," she answered quickly. Ruth was too discombobulated by this whole conversation to be anything less than honest at this point.

"Then when you return to work, tell him so."

"But…"

"But what?"

"You don't mind that he's so much older than me?"

"A man who has been married and divorced is a man who has made mistakes and hopefully learned from them. And a man his age should know what he wants and not want to waste time. If he treats you well and you like him, Ruthie, that's all that matters. Age is just a number, after all."

Ruth sighed, feeling like she'd been put through the wringer on this car ride. "I wonder how many women get dating advice from their grandfathers?"

"Probably more than who get dating advice from the King."

That comment had Ruth laughing again. Grandfather leaned over and kissed her temple.

"You're a good girl, Ruthie. I'm glad you're here with me."

"Me too."


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

"You've been odd all weekend. What's bothering you?"

Harry turned from his drink cart to see Malcolm entering his study and closing the door behind him. Harry smiled to himself and poured another glass of scotch. He took one for himself and gave the other to Malcolm. "Children in bed?"

"Yes," the butler replied, sitting down on the overstuffed leather sofa beside Harry's armchair as usual. "Graham wanted to keep reading his book, but he put it down when I told him I'd keep the collection under lock and key if he didn't."

"I'm glad he likes to read," Harry said softly. It was an admirable quality for a boy of twelve. Harry himself had been equally enamored by books and cricket when he was that age. He'd bought that collection of leather-bound classics for his son on Malcolm's recommendation. Even after living with them for over a year, his work schedule still kept him away from his children more often than not and he had not gotten to know them as well as he wanted to. He still needed the butler to tell him what the children would want as gifts.

"That collection was the perfect birthday present for him," Malcolm said. "When I told you he might like something to read, I didn't imagine you'd get him a whole library."

"I didn't think books would spoil him too much."

"No, certainly not. He's a good boy, Harry. He's not as sad as he used to be, but I think it's hard for them both to live here in the same house with you and still see you so infrequently."

Harry took a sip of his scotch. He knew Malcolm was right. He could probably count on two hands the number of full, uninterrupted days he'd spent with Catherine and Graham since he'd taken the position with Foreign Intelligence. They only managed to have dinner all together about once a week, if they were lucky. This weekend—even though he'd been on the phone for a lot of it—had been a very special occasion to celebrate Graham's birthday. But now that the department was properly up and running, perhaps he could cut down on his hours and be home with the children a bit more. Ruth could more than take care of things if he weren't in the office as much.

Ah, Ruth. That was the real reason for his odd mood, which Malcolm had picked up on. She would be returning from Gambon tomorrow.

"I asked a woman out last week and I will be getting her response tomorrow," Harry told Malcolm. It was changing the subject, but he'd been the one to change it initially when he asked about the children.

To Harry's slightly surprise, Malcolm began to laugh. "How on earth did you let that happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, you have something of a notorious reputation, lest you forget that I knew you in the army all those years ago. It isn't like you to ask a woman out and give her time to respond or be at all concerned that she might turn you down!"

"Well, this woman is very different," Harry defended. Malcolm was right about his track record. He'd had a gift with seduction in his younger years. Before he was married. While he was married. After he was married. But after Jane died and he obtained full custody of the children, he had slowed significantly in his womanizing ways. Only when he was off duty in his foreign assignments did he go on the hunt for a woman to bed. He never dared think of such a thing when he had his children at home. He credited himself with some decency after all.

Malcolm regarded him curiously. "Different how?"

Harry did not quite know where to begin. Ruth was nothing like the women he'd been interested in before. He'd liked women who were dangerous and fun. He'd liked women who presented a challenge, women he could win over, women whose very natures dared any man to try to bed them. And he almost always succeeded before. Jane had been slightly frigid before he thawed her—though his loss of interest and her isolation had frozen her right up again. Before that, Tessa had been quite the tigress for him to tame. For a while, he developed a taste for women of nobility who were looking for a bit of unsupervised, naughty fun. Juliet had been the end of that streak, as she had been quite content to chew him up and spit him out, rather that the other way around as Harry was used to. Just the thought of that woman made him uneasy nowadays.

But Ruth, Ruth was nothing like any of them. She was beautiful, of course, but in such a subtle and understated way. She presented herself well but never with too much artifice, never trying to make herself attractive. She was so frightfully brilliant and capable at her job, it entranced him. He felt no inferiority to her far superior intellect, but rather appreciated it. Strange, that. He found nothing about Ruth to be threatening, though her qualities were certainly enough to intimidate any person. But she was so bright and kind and well-meaning. She had a sweetness about her that he found to be a breath of fresh air. Such a demeanor was not often present with a mind like hers. The combination had utterly enchanted him. From the first moment they met, he'd been drawn in by the bewitching beauty of her eyes and her smile. And since knowing her and working with her, his interest had only increased and his regard for her only deepened. He felt he knew Ruth in the way a supervisor knows his closest employee, but he wanted to know so much more. He wanted to ask her questions and hear her answers. He wanted to see her in every light and in every possible way. And yes, he certainly wanted to take her to bed, to see if that sparkle in her eye and that blush in her cheeks meant what he'd imagined it to be if he could ever manage to get her naked in his arms.

But all of that was quite hard to explain. Because all of that meant nothing if she said no to his dinner invitation. And so he told Malcolm, "I like her. Very much. I like her as an analyst and as a member of my team."

"She's in your department?"

He nodded. "I'm sure you've heard me mention Ruth."

Malcolm gave a knowing smile. "Ah yes. I wondered if there might be something there. You don't often speak about women you work with in that way."

"In what way?"

"With a bit of awe."

Harry could not dispute that. He was in awe of Ruth. Her efficiency and her dedication and her intellect. All of it awe-inspiring.

"So you asked her to dinner?"

"Yes. She was going away for a few days, and I asked her to go to dinner with me. And when she didn't answer right away, I told her to think about it and answer me when she got back."

"And she gets back tomorrow?"

Harry nodded. "But her working with me isn't really the only matter of concern."

"Oh?"

"Well, everyone calls her Ruth, but that isn't her proper name. Just like I don't like being called Sir Harry, it seems she doesn't like being called Princess Louisa."

Malcolm's jaw dropped. "Harry, you can't take the princess out on a date!" he exclaimed.

"Why not? She's just a person like anyone else, she's just got an important grandfather."

"But surely there are rules for things like this! Is she even allowed to date? Is she betrothed to some foreign prince to wed on her eighteenth birthday?"

"She's twenty-three, actually. I got a look at her personnel record so I'd know when her birthday is. She liked the book I left for her on her desk," Harry interjected.

Malcolm was not as endeared by that little story as Harry thought he should have been. "She is a member of the royal family. Her grandfather is King Richard V. And who are you?"

"Major Henry James Pearce, knighted Sir Harry by His Majesty ten years ago," he replied facetiously.

"I mean it, Harry, you can't just ask her out like you would anyone else. And never mind that she's a princess, you said she's only twenty-three? Aren't you about to turn forty?"

"Not for another five months," he grumbled. As a point of fact, Ruth would be turning twenty-four before he turned forty. But he knew Malcolm's point still stood.

"You're right to be nervous," Malcolm said. "You'll be lucky if her response doesn't come with a threat from the Royal Guard to stay away from her."

Harry did not bother to say that Ruth's sole bodyguard, a Mr. Tom Quinn, was wildly ineffectual. Presumably he was a perfectly fine protector, but Harry had overpowered him with his authority quite easily, and no one in the department ever had to see him except when he followed Ruth to and from the registry and escorted her in and out of the building.

For the rest of the night, Harry remained in his anxious mood about Ruth. He knew Malcolm was probably correct about him underestimating the effect of her being a princess. Ruth acted just like a regular woman doing her job, despite being significantly better at her job than anyone else. Harry did not think of her as a princess unless he was given reason to be reminded. Sometimes she had to go to various royal events, like this trip to Gambon at the King's request. But otherwise, no one would have ever known she was royalty. Maybe that's what Harry liked so much about her. But maybe he was remiss in thinking it did not matter.

Much to Harry's chagrin, he was prevented from going into his office first thing the next day. He was ushered into a long and terribly boring meeting with the Director of Intelligence first thing. He'd not even gotten to take of his coat or put down his briefcase. And because he was detained, he'd not been there when Ruth arrived that day.

Finally, though, he was released from the purgatory of pointless meetings and allowed to go to his office. The department was bustling when he arrived, everyone already well into their day. Ruth was on the phone and taking down notes when he walked by her desk. She did not acknowledge him, and he did not want to interrupt her. Even so, his heart thundered in his chest just to see her face after five days.

Harry intended to just push through his nerves and get right to work just as he normally would. But after he hung up his coat and turned on the lights in his office, he saw a slip of paper folded on his desk. He sat down and unfolded it. It was a note. Just two short sentences. Unsigned. Bu the recognized the handwriting.

_Thank you for giving me time to think. My answer is yes._

He read the words over three times and felt his chest grow warm. Harry looked up through the large window in his office that looked out over the bullpen. He saw that Ruth had gotten off her telephone call. She was looking right at him. And they both shared a beaming smile.

Harry's phone rang, jolting him out of the happy moment. He answered it. "Pearce," he barked gruffly. He folded the note and put it in the front pocket of his uniform to save. In the bullpen, one of the other analysts came to ask Ruth a question. Back to work.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

He did not have many expectations. He really didn't. All he really wanted was to spend some time with Ruth alone and not think about work with her for once and to get to know her better. He wanted to see her smile and he wanted to talk to her. That was all.

And this was nothing like that.

Harry had thought he possessed some charm when it came to women. As Malcolm had reminded him, he'd had something of a reputation in his younger days. Juliet once said he could charm the pants off anyone if he really wanted to. And while that was not precisely his goal here with Ruth, he found himself woefully inept.

He had offered to pick her up and drive take her to the restaurant, but she had declined. After the fact, he realized it was probably a rule from her bodyguard. Said bodyguard spent their meal sitting by the wall in the restaurant, watching them. Certainly did not add to the mood. Or rather it did add to the mood, but it was not a mood Harry had intended. They were both stilted and awkward and nervous and being watched like that certainly did not help the situation.

They'd made it through ordering and appetizers. And nothing was getting any better. They sipped their wine and just sat there uncomfortably. All of Harry's attempts at conversation seemed to be wrong. He did not want to make too much reference—or any, if he could help it—to her royal status, which cut out many topics he would have otherwise been interested in. Her family, her childhood, all things he had to steer away from.

"What do you like doing when you're not at work?" he asked out of the blue, desperate to say something.

"Oh," she answered, seemingly surprised by the question. "I…I don't know. I don't really have much free time, between work and other obligations. But I…I suppose I like to read."

Finally, something he could work with. "What sorts of books do you like?"

"All kinds."

Not a very effusive answer. "What are you reading nowadays?"

"I just finished reading The Iliad in Greek."

Harry could not help but laugh. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"I like reading things in the original language when I can," she defended. The lines on her forehead deepened as she felt obviously uncomfortable and displeased with his reaction.

He did his best to steer the conversation to safer ground. "What other books have you read in the original language?"

"I read Around the World in Eighty Days in French last year. And when I was in school, I decided to tackle War and Peace in Russian."

"Good lord that sounds painful," Harry teased.

The wrong thing to say. "I didn't mind it," Ruth replied quietly. She lowered her gaze to her lap where her hands were fidgeting with her napkin.

Their entrees arrived a moment later and they were thankfully occupied eating. "How's the halibut?" he asked.

"Very good, thank you," she answered. "And your veal?"

"Wonderful."

They lapsed into silence again. It was almost painful to Harry, almost enough to make him go off his meal. But he did not want to stop eating because he would be left with nothing else to do. He did not want to upset her any further, since it was clear she was not enjoying herself. Oh what an awful mess.

It occurred to him that perhaps she had only accepted his invitation because he was her boss. That she felt some kind of obligation. He had not made it very clear, upon retrospect, that he would not expect her to say yes. He had given her time to think about it, but perhaps he should have explained his intentions better. Of course he wanted to develop something of a personal romantic relationship with her, but if she did not feel the same, he would not have pushed. And regardless of how this dinner went—terribly, as it turned out—he wanted nothing more than to have their working relationship remain as it always had been. Christ, he'd have to tell her that after they finished eating. He needed to be sure that she would not feel any further pressure from him about this. They could just forget it happened and go back to how they were before this mistake ever occurred. At least, he hoped they could.

Once he made that decision, Harry was quite eager to get this dinner finished as soon as possible. He continued to eat quietly, glancing up every so often to see Ruth fidgeting with something or chewing on her lips in between bites.

It pained him that even as uncomfortable as she so clearly was, he could not help but notice how beautiful she looked. She had put on more makeup than he was used to seeing her wear every day. Her hair was hanging loose in soft waves to frame her lovely face. Her pale blue eyes were accentuated by the dark liner she wore. Her lips had a very pretty mauve lipstick that had rubbed off during the meal. And she wore a navy blue dress that, while not very flashy in any way, was quite different from the army uniform they each wore at work. He wished he could have told her how beautiful she was, but now it didn't feel right to say.

The waiter came by to pick up their finished plates. He offered dessert menus but Harry quickly declined. No doubt Ruth was eager to leave, and Harry did not want to drag this unfortunate evening out any longer. He paid the check a minute later, doing his best not to make eye contact with Ruth.

"Thank you for dinner," she said, as he handed the bill back to the waiter.

"You're welcome," he replied. He wanted to say that it was his pleasure, but he got no pleasure from knowing she did not have a good time. "I'll walk you to your car," he offered politely. When they were outside, he could apologize for making her uncomfortable and promise that their working relationship would remain intact.

He helped her with her coat, as it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and escorted her outside. The bodyguard was already going to retrieve the car for Ruth. "Actually," she said, pausing just beside the door to the restaurant, "could we walk a little? If…if you don't mind?"

That request surprised him, but he agreed.

They fell into step quietly for about a minute before Ruth, wringing her hands, suddenly said, "Harry, I'm really sorry."

His heart fell to his stomach. This was not what he wanted at all. He should have been the first to apologize. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Ruth, this is my fault and I should apologize to you."

"No, it's my fault. I wanted so much for this to go well. I couldn't believe when you asked me to dinner and I knew I'd ruin it somehow just like I always ruin things like this. I should have tried harder to get over it and for us to have a nice time, but I just couldn't seem to and now I'm sure you don't ever want to see me ever again, only I hope we can still continue on as we did at work. I really do love that job and I really love working with you, and I think we work well together, and I just…can we please keep that? Even after I behaved so badly tonight?" she said, rambling so fast, the words seemed to pour out of her ceaselessly.

Harry was slightly stunned. He stopped walking and stared at her in amazement, wondering how they could have mucked this up so badly. "You…you aren't upset at me?"

She stopped walking when he did and looked up at him, confusion filling her face. "Why would I be upset at you?"

"I thought you only agreed to dinner because I'm your boss. I was worried you were having a terrible time and didn't want to be here," he confessed, feeling his cheeks grow warm at saying it aloud.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed. "No, Harry, I thought you were upset at me for being so awkward about everything! I've been really looking forward to this and I really wanted to go to dinner with you. I…" A very pretty blush appeared in her cheeks and she averted her eyes nervously once more. Only this time she was smiling. "I like spending time with you."

"I didn't think you were having a very good time," he said softly.

She looked back up at him. "I thought you were regretting ever asking me out."

"No, not at all. I just wanted us to enjoy ourselves together."

Her eyes sparkled and Harry very much wanted to reach out to touch her face, but he restrained himself, particularly when she spoke again. "Do you think we could try again? Some other time?"

"Tomorrow?"

Ruth bit her lip. "I can't tomorrow, actually. The president of Jelman is arriving and I have to attend the reception."

"How about the night after?"

"Yes, that would be good. And I promise not to be so nervous."

"I don't want to make you nervous, Ruth."

"You don't make me nervous, Harry," she told him, placing a gentle hand on his forearm.

"Then why were you so nervous about tonight?"

"Honestly?"

"No, Ruth, I want you to lie to me," he quipped sarcastically.

She chuckled lightly, thank goodness, giving his arm a small squeeze. "I was nervous because I really like you and I wasn't sure how I could possibly be so lucky."

Harry did not stop himself this time from putting his palm on her cheek. "I really like you too, Ruth. I think you're lovely and I'd be honored for another chance to take you out."

"Yes, please."

He smiled, matching her expression. "Good," he murmured. "That's good.

They stayed like that for another quiet moment, only this one was not filled with their former discomfort. This quiet moment was rather nice, her hand holding his forearm and his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. But Ruth broke their silence again to say, "I think we should go find Tom before he sends half the Royal Guard to find me."

Harry nodded, dropping his hand from her face and turning to walk back towards where they had left the bodyguard with the car. Ruth took his hand as they walked.


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

"I won't be home for supper tomorrow," Harry informed his family.

"But you weren't home last night!" Catherine whined.

"Yes, I know, sweetheart," he replied patiently. Truly he did not appreciate that tone of her voice but he and Malcolm had just discussed that he needed to spend more time with the children and he did not want to spend the time he did have with them being cross.

"Dad, do you have meetings?" Graham asked.

Harry smiled over at his son. He was more interested in Harry's job than one might have anticipated. Catherine didn't care at all about the army or government or the like. She was about to turn fourteen and at the moment only wanted to go to the movies with her friends and volunteer at the animal shelter. Most likely he'd have to buy her some sort of pet for her birthday, which he was dreading.

But Graham, though, he was an extremely curious lad. Always interested in what Harry was doing, always asking questions, always reading. Harry told him as much as he could, but of course a lot of the work he did was confidential. And it was just as Malcolm had said, that Graham was disappointed not to spend more time with his father. Harry did want to change that. He'd give it some thought and see what he could do.

"No," Harry responded, answering Graham's question. He hesitated a moment before adding, "I have a dinner date."

Catherine turned to him sharply. "A date?"

"Yes."

"You're dating?" she asked accusingly.

"Not in the general sense, but I am going to have dinner with one particular woman."

Graham seemed unperturbed by his sister's tone. "Dad, is she pretty?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, I think she's very pretty."

"What's her name?" he asked.

"Ruth."

"Can we meet her?"

Catherine interjected before Harry could answer. "Why do you want to meet her? Even if Dad keeps her around for more than a week, why would she want anything to do with us?"

Malcolm placed a calming hand on her arm. "Catherine, that's a rather unkind remark."

"But it's true," she insisted. "Dad doesn't spend time with nice women, especially ones who would care about his kids."

Harry felt his stomach tie in knots to hear his daughter say such a thing. "Why would you say that?"

"Mum said," Catherine replied with a shrug.

He'd been afraid of that. He and Jane had certainly had their differences and he had been a terrible husband to her. But the idea that she had hated him so much that she would tell such things to their children was extremely disappointing. He'd not speak badly about Jane to them, not only because she was their mother but because she was dead. He chose instead to skate past that remark and return to the more relevant topic of conversation. "Ruth is very different from other women I have had relationships with in the past. And not that it is any of your business, Catherine, but she's the first woman I've dated since I took the job in the capitol."

Thankfully, Catherine was properly chastised at that and did not respond. Graham looked from his sister to his father and back again, clearly trying to decide if it was safe for him to say anything. "So can we meet her?" he asked quietly.

"We'll see. I like her very much, but I've only been out with her once."

"Was that where you went for dinner last night?" Graham interrupted.

"Yes."

"And you're seeing her again tomorrow?" Catherine asked.

"Yes."

Catherine made a small 'hmph' noise.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked her warily.

"You must like her if you're seeing her twice in one week. That's not a usual thing men do, is it?"

He was immediately caught off guard and instantly uncomfortable. "What do you know about what men do?"

"I see a lot of films, Dad," she answered, rolling her eyes.

That made him feel slightly better. Being the father of a teenaged girl was going to be absolutely terrifying, he could feel it.

"Dad, I hope your date goes really well," Graham said.

Harry turned his attention back to his son and chuckled slightly. "Why do you hope my date goes well?"

The boy shrugged. "You seem happy."

"I am happy," Harry replied.

And he was happy. He was very happy with how he and Ruth had left things the night before. He'd walked her back to her car, earning quite the glare from Tom Quinn which fazed him not at all, and softly kissed her hand. Perhaps a bit overly chivalrous, but she was a princess after all. Ruth had blushed and smiled and her eyes sparkled so prettily. He had been thinking about it ever since. And then today at work, everything had been just as it always was. They remained just as professional as before. Though Harry did quite like that he could look out his office window to see her and every so often she'd look up and smile at him. And if that was the only thing that changed about their working relationship, he would be very happy.

Before Harry knew it, he and Ruth were out on their second date. Or rather the second attempt at their first date. She had told him to pick her up at her townhouse this time, as Tom Quinn had agreed to follow them in a separate car and to remain outside the restaurant and maintain the perimeter. Harry liked the sound of that.

He drove to the address she had given him. It was in the very posh part of the capitol, which made sense. It was actually not too far from his own house. And for a member of the royal family, her house seemed rather humble. It was just a house. A very nice house, but not to big or outlandish at all. By all appearances, Ruth had neighbors and lived in the city just like anyone else. Harry had always liked the way she treated her royal status, and this absolutely proved all he knew about her.

When he rang the doorbell, it was opened by a maid. "Miss Ruth is almost ready, Sir Harry," she told him. "Please come in."

Harry waited patiently in the foyer, looking at the pretty stained glass in the front door and the rather simple paintings of flowers and photographs of landscapes hung up on her wall. It seemed a very comfortable and homey sort of place.

Upstairs, there was a clatter and a muffled shout that, if Harry had to guess, was the sound of Ruth knocking something over and swearing about it. He'd seen her do such a thing at work many, many times. He smiled.

A door opened and thundering footsteps sounded on the landing. "Harry, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting!" she called.

He couldn't quite see her yet, but he heard her voice. "It's quite alright, Ruth," he replied.

And then she appeared coming down the stairs. He saw her shoes first. Black high heels, looking very elegant but nothing too special. She work black sheer stockings as well, which highlighted her rather shapely calves. He'd seen that plenty in her army uniform, but the black stockings were much more seductive. And then Harry saw the exquisitely beautiful violet dress she wore. The color was dark and subdued, and the full skirt reached her knees. It had a ribbon tied at her waist and the neckline was modest. What was very noticeable, however, was the fact that the dress was strapless and the entire expanse of her arms and shoulders and neck were on display. Her pale skin looked so soft and creamy and perfect. He barely could tear his eyes away to look at her smiling face wearing makeup almost exactly as she did for their last dinner, and her hair was softly curled just the same way.

"You look beautiful," he breathed, trying to keep from staring at her with his jaw dropped.

She blushed and looked away, as she seemed to every time he said anything complimentary to her, but she smiled. "Thank you," she replied softly when she got to the bottom of the stairs. "You look very handsome. I like the blue." Her hand gently touched his chest, making him shiver.

Harry had worn a black suit with a white shirt and a silver tie on their first evening. Now he wore a blue shirt with a gray suit and black tie. He was extremely glad he'd decided to wear the blue shirt. "Shall we?"

Ruth nodded. The maid handed her a coat and Ruth took his arm. Her maid closed and locked the front door behind them. Harry opened the passenger's side door for her and walked around the front of the car to get in on the driver's side. He saw Tom Quinn in the car behind him, ready to follow. Harry gave him a small wave. He was too pleased to feel any annoyance with the man now.

The restaurant he took her to was much less formal than the first. It was a small place with small tables and a fire across from the bar. Lots of white tablecloths and dark wood and low lighting. Much more intimate. Hopefully a place to make her much less nervous.

But she did not seem nervous now. They chatted happily in the car on their way. He'd asked her about the state dinner the night before and she told him all about it. What her role was at the dinner, where she sat, who she spoke to, what the Jelmanese President was like, how her grandfather handled things, what her father and uncle and aunt were doing. Harry was even so bold as to ask what she had worn; until their first dinner, he'd never seen her out of uniform and so he was now suddenly fascinated with what sorts of things she liked to wear out in the world in her royal duties. She laughed at his question, probably finding it silly that he could be interested in such a thing, and described the silver dress she wore.

"I like wearing silver and gray for things like that," she told him. "I'm not sure why. Probably when I was a little girl, they always put me in pink, which I thought was silly. Nowadays I prefer darker colors so I don't stand out or catch attention, but I'm not allowed to hide at royal functions. The silver always feels elegant, I think. It's…it's like the army uniform, actually."

"Oh? How so?"

"It's what I'm supposed to wear and protects me as a result. Ruth likes to wear blue and black and purple and brown, but Princess Louisa always wears silver and gray and ivory. Helps separate the worlds, I suppose. Like when you're Major Pearce versus just Harry, I'd imagine."

He had never really thought about it that way, but her point certainly made sense. Good lord she was just so intelligent all the time. He could listen to her talk forever, he thought.

Their pleasant conversation lasted as they parked the car and went inside. They chatted through their ordering. When the wine was poured, they toasted to second chances.

Harry was rather sure that from the moment he saw her that evening until the moment she excused herself to powder her nose while he paid the bill, neither one of them had stopped smiling. Certainly the best possible outcome of this second chance.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: M-rating for this chapter**

_Chapter Ten_

Ruth sat in Harry's car as he drove her home. She noticed that he drove slightly slower than he had when they'd been leaving to go to the restaurant. She hoped that was because he did not want the evening to end, just as she felt, and not because he'd had too much wine with dinner.

But far too soon, he parked the car in front of her house. "Home sweet home," he said softly. It did not escape her notice that he did not hurry to get out and open the car door for her.

She put her hand on top of his where it rested on the gearshift. "Harry, I had a really wonderful time tonight. Thank you for taking me out again."

He turned his hand over so he could hold hers and gently stroke her palm with his thumb. She shivered at his touch. "The pleasure was very much mine, Ruth. I'm really glad we tried this again and made up for the other night. I'm glad you weren't nervous."

From the dim light coming from the streetlamp, she could see a sparkle in his eyes. Ruth swallowed hard. "Not nervous," she lied. Well, it was true that she wasn't nervous when they went out to dinner. But now she was. Because now felt very important. And she wanted so very, very much not to screw it up.

Harry caught on right away. "You weren't nervous before but you seem a bit nervous now," he noted. He turned slightly where he sat and used his free hand to gently cup her cheek as he'd done the other evening as they'd said goodnight. "What's bothering you, Ruth?" he asked softly.

Ruth glanced from his eyes to his very plump lips and back up. "Absolutely nothing," she replied. Her heart was racing and her head felt a little light from the smell of his cologne and the nearness of him.

"Good," he whispered.

He leaned in slowly, but she absolutely no intention of pulling away or stopping him at all. His lips brushed softly against hers and her whole body melted. She pressed herself closer to him, kissing him a little harder. His mouth moved on hers with such passion and such skill, she thought she was about to pass out. Her whole brain, always so full and busy, just emptied out. All that existed was Harry and the way he kissed her. After a moment, she felt his tongue dart out against the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth to him and deepened the kiss. They swallowed each other's moans. His hand let go of hers to wrap around her waist, traveling up to her bare back exposed in the strapless dress. His other hand was tangled in her hair, keeping her anchored against him. Ruth had thrown her arms around him to pull him closer, as close as they could manage. She wanted to feel him in every possible way. She wanted to…

_HONK_

The pair of them sprang apart at the abrupt, loud sound of a car horn. Ruth turned to look out the back window to see Tom's stern face staring at her. "Oh I will kill him," she muttered.

"I think perhaps that's my cue to leave," Harry chuckled. His voice was a little hoarse and breathless.

"Would you like to come in for a nightcap?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't have to leave just yet.

Harry looked back to where Tom was still waiting in the car behind them. "I don't know if I should…"

"Ignore him. He stays out of the way. If you'd like to come in and have a drink with me, you should. But if you don't want to, regardless of Tom, then I'll go inside by myself," she told him.

"I'd like to come inside with you," he answered quickly. "Just as long as it's alright."

She laughed lightly. "I wouldn't have invited you if it wasn't alright, Harry."

He nodded and smiled and got out of the car so he could open the door for her. Tom appeared a fraction of a second later to open the front door of the house and do his normal check. Ruth waited with Harry on the porch where she boldly held his hand. Tom came back out after a moment. "All clear," he told her.

"Thank you, Tom. Goodnight," she said firmly.

He nodded, knowing what that meant. "Goodnight, Miss Ruth." Tom went around to the side entrance to the house where the security rooms were. He'd do his monitoring and go to bed in his room and leave Ruth in peace.

She led him inside the foyer. "I suppose that comes with the territory, dating a princess," Harry said resignedly, helping her take off her coat.

"Unfortunately, yes. I hope it's not too much bother. Tom usually isn't much of a disruption," Ruth answered as she hung up both of their coats by the door.

"He's never stopped you having a snog in a car before?"

She blushed, glad she was walking in front of him to lead him through to the parlor. "I've not had a snog in a car in a long time. And Tom wasn't my bodyguard back when I was in school. And actually, I've never had a snog in a car quite like that."

"Oh? How do you mean?"

Her blush deepened, if that were even possible. She tried to find the words as she poured them each a bit of brandy. "Well, I…erm…I don't know about you, but I thought that was rather…rather nice." She turned back to hand him his drink and get settled on the sofa.

A joyful smile broke out on his face. "I agree, it was rather nice." He clinked her glass with his in a small toast to that fact.

"I'm sorry we were interrupted. Thought it was probably best, since we were in the car."

"Not very princess-like behavior, snogging in a car."

"It's not very princess-like behavior to be an intelligence analyst either," she pointed out. "But it doesn't really matter since I'll never be queen."

"And I must say I'm quite glad of that," Harry said.

"Are you?"

"Yes, I imagine I wouldn't be allowed to snog you in a car if you were going to be queen one day. Your grandfather may have knighted me, but I'm still just a filthy commoner."

Ruth frowned. "I actually never thought of it like that before, but you're probably right. It matters much more who the future monarch spends their time with. You know, my grandfather told me when we were in Gambon that the family was starting to worry about me that I haven't dated. Which I told him that I have, and he said he was glad I haven't lived like a nun. I ask you, what sort of grandfather and what sort of king says a thing like that?!"

Harry laughed. It was a wonderful sound, slightly wheezy and full of joy. "Well, from everything I've seen, he's a wonderful king. And it sounds like he's a grandfather who cares about his granddaughter's happiness."

"Yes, he does," she said with a fond smile. "And I'm his only grandchild so far, so I do have the benefit of being doted on."

"See? That's very princess-like behavior, begin doted on."

"Well, at least you don't dote on me. You're my boss and you're not allowed to."

"How about when we're not working? When we're out to dinner or snogging in my car or sharing a drink on your sofa? Am I allowed to dote on you then?"

"Oh you don't have to do that."

Harry leaned in with a teasing grin. "Of course I do, princess."

A small giggle escaped her lips. Good lord, when was the last time she giggled. "Oh stop it."

He immediately pulled away and schooled his expression. "Yes, Your Highness."

The entire effect was so sudden that she could not help but laugh out loud. Harry smiled at that.

"You have a wonderful laugh," he noted.

"Thank you. I don't get to laugh as much as I'd like to."

"Neither do I, particularly with the work we do."

"Well, I'm glad we can make each other laugh when we aren't working," she said, placing her hand on his chest. She'd already kicked off her shoes and curled her legs underneath her on the sofa.

Harry finished his drink and put the glass down on the table. Ruth quickly finished hers and handed him the glass to put next to his.

"I've had the best time with you tonight, Harry. I still can't quite believe it," she murmured softly, scooting closer to him and tracing small circles on his chest with her fingers.

"Can't believe you had a good time?" he asked, his tone just as quiet as hers.

Ruth looked up from her hand to his face. "Can't believe I got to spend this whole evening alone with you. You're wonderful, and I…"

Her words were cut off when his mouth met hers again. He kissed her passionately, hungrily. His hands were on her bare arms, and he leaned forward, maneuvering them so Ruth ended up lying on her back with Harry above her on the sofa. She could feel her dress riding up but she did not care one bit. She only held him close to her so he could keep kissing her and never, ever stop. One of his hands traced down her body, skating lightly over her breast and down to her waist. She bent her knee slightly so he could continue the journey. She could hardly breathe but her lips and her tongue were so tangled with Harry's, she couldn't bring herself to pull away.

Harry was the one to lift his head eventually. He was breathing heavily and looked at her with wild eyes. "I…erm…I should go." He made no attempt to move off of her.

"Why?" she asked.

"If I don't go now, I don't know if I'll be able to."

She smiled, her heart pounding and her stomach filled with butterflies. "So don't."

"Ruth, I don't want you to feel like you have to make anything up to me," he said. He shifted slightly so he could gently stroke her cheek again. She was growing to love that he did that.

"I don't," she assured him, nuzzling against his hand. She turned to kiss his palm and reached up to gently hold his face as he held hers. "Don't go, Harry. Don't stop. Please."

He smiled and his eyes darkened with desire. He leaned in and began kissing her again, and Ruth's whole being erupted in fireworks. Harry's lips soon left hers, however, to travel down her jaw and neck.

"Oh god, Harry," Ruth moaned. She ran her hands through his hair, upsetting whatever it was that held it in place. The thick curls were soft between her fingers. When she felt his teeth graze the tendons of her neck, she gasped and dug her fingernails into his scalp. He growled against her skin and sucked hard, surely leaving a mark.

His kisses continued down over her chest and to the tops of her breasts just barely visible over the neckline of the dress. Meanwhile, his hand had moved back down her waist to her thigh. He hitched her leg over his hip and traced the tops of her stockings. Ruth felt as though she were about to burst into flames. She felt electric sparks wherever Harry touched her. And she could feel him growing hard against the inside of her leg.

She wanted him so much she could barely breathe. But she couldn't have him on the sofa like this. "Harry," she breathed, unable to find her voice. Somehow she found a way to give his shoulder a slight push.

He tore himself off her and practically fell off the sofa in his haste. "What? What's wrong?" he asked.

It almost made her laugh to look at him. His blonde curls were all over the place. His lips were swollen and some of her lipstick was smeared on them. His face was red and his chest was heaving. Good lord, he hadn't even taken off the jacket of his suit! Must fix that.

"Ruth, are you alright?" he asked again after her strange silence.

She hadn't realized she'd just been staring at him mutely. "No, I'm fine," she promised. "Better than fine." Ruth realized she must look as ravished as he did. More so. She'd have to see if she could find a way to leave a mark on him as he had on her. "I just…" She hauled herself up, trying to smooth her skirt back down before turning back to him with a smile. "I think maybe we should go upstairs."

"Upstairs?" he asked stupidly.

"That's where the bedroom is," she explained.

"I…yes," he answered.

Ruth stood up and took Harry by the hand. She led him up the stairs and into her bedroom and closed the door behind them.

They renewed their passionate kisses and quickly undressed each other. Ruth pushed Harry's jacket off his shoulders and undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He unzipped her dress and pushed if off her and then pulled away.

She wasn't wearing a bra as one wasn't needed with that dress. She was left in only her stockings and knickers. He looked at her with such blatant desire, Ruth did not quite know what to do.

He seemed to sense her unease at being stared at. His eyes moved back up to her face. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

That probably wasn't true, but it was nice of him to say. She smiled and blushed. Again. She really needed to stop doing that.

Thankfully, Harry did not wait for a response. He took his shirt and vest off, baring his chest to her—a vision that made her weak in the knees—and took her by the hand to pull her towards him. "On the bed," he whispered.

She sat on the edge of her bed as he instructed. He unclipped the stocking of her left leg and rolled it down slowly, caressing her bare leg as her skin was revealed. He repeated the action with the other leg. He then placed his hands on either side of her hips and kissed her again, quickly, before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her knickers. Ruth shifted to allow him to take them off her. And then she was entirely naked and sitting on her bed.

Harry kissed her again. "Lie back," he told her, his voice muffled as his kisses went back down her neck and swirled over her breasts and across her belly. He got down on his knees in front of her and spread her legs apart. Before she even fully knew what was going on, she felt his mouth on her. His lips and tongue caressing her folds, lapping up the dripping wetness of her arousal, sucking hard on her. Ruth was making some sort of sounds over which she had absolutely no control. Her hands flailed out, reaching onto whatever she could. One hand buried in Harry's hair once again, guiding his mouth where she needed him. The other hand fisted in the comforter of the bed. She came apart against his mouth, shuddering and gasping and moaning for him.

He allowed her some reprieve when he kissed back up her body to her lips. She could taste herself on his tongue, something she found more erotic than she cared to emit. Ruth held him in her arms as tight as she could, wanting nothing more than to feel close to him.

"In bed, I think," he whispered.

She nodded. She could not seem to form words for the moment.

Harry helped her stand, and Ruth's shaking hands undid his belt buckle and unzipped his trousers. He kicked off his shoes just as she pushed his trousers and trunks down. His erection was, in a word, impressive. Ruth was not normally so bold, but with Harry she felt safe to do what she felt. And what she felt she wanted was to take him in her hand, feel him hard and hot and heavy, and stroke the velvet soft skin of his cock.

It was Harry's turn to whimper uncontrollably now. But he had more control over himself than she did over herself, it seemed, because he pulled away from her and reiterated, "In bed."

Ruth pulled back the covers and got into bed. Harry removed his remaining clothes and followed her. He did not hesitate to climb on top of her and rest in the cradle of her open thighs. She liked the feel of him like this, the heat of his skin, the weight of his muscled body. "Harry," she begged, arching herself up to him.

He did not leave her waiting. He took himself in hand and slowly pushed inside her. She had to readjust her hips more than once to accommodate him, but she wanted very much to take him all in, to feel him stretch and fill her as much as possible. By the time he was buried to the hilt inside of her, she could already feel her body fluttering around him, so close to the edge. Harry kissed her and began to move.

His pace was slow and steady, ensuring she felt every inch of him and he could reach as deep inside of her as possible. She had to pull away from his kiss so she could breathe. His pace began to quicken, and she rocked her body against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. His face was buried in her hair, and she could feel him moaning her name against her neck. When her orgasm crashed over her, her body twitched and pulsed with pleasure. Harry moved faster and chased her completion with his own with a bone-deep groan of satisfaction.

When he finished, he made a move to roll off her, but Ruth stopped him. "Don't go," she murmured. "Not yet."

Harry settled into her embrace for a little bit longer.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven_

Ruth's entire body felt heavy and happy. Little sparks of aftershocks still tickled her when she moved. Her hair was plastered to her sweaty face and her skin was starting to chill as her heartrate slowed and her body cooled. "Oh Harry," she hummed happily.

He stirred beside her. They had rolled over, him on his back and her resting against his chest. There was a wet patch on the bed that she didn't much want to lie on top of. But that could be dealt with later. For now, she had no intention of moving at all. Harry was lazily tracing his fingers down the ridges of her spine. He tiled his head to kiss her hair. "That was rather wonderful, thank you," he whispered.

"Beyond wonderful. You're…well, I see why you have something of a reputation," she teased, turning her head to press a kiss to the light dusting of hair on his chest.

"I have a reputation?" he asked in surprise.

"Oh come off it, you know you do."

"Yes, well, I didn't think you were aware of it."

"I overheard the Director say a few things about you before you took the position. Nothing too bad, just sort of the insinuation that you have a way with women. Which I can see that you do."

"Is that why you were nervous on our first date?"

"No, I didn't really even think about it until tonight. When we were on the sofa, actually, I just had the distant thought that you obviously know what you're doing. And you're very good at it."

"Well, thank you, I suppose," he grumbled.

Ruth sat up so she could look at him properly. "Don't pout," she said, placing a hand on his bare chest. Oh he was so strong and beautiful, she did not want to stop touching him. "Do you think I was using you for sex?"

"Well, that would be very unprincess-like behavior," he quipped.

She gave a small laugh. "I think taking you to bed on our second date was probably unprincess-like behavior as well."

"Yes, I suppose it is. So are you just using me for sex?" he asked teasingly.

"Are you just using me for sex?" she countered. After all, he was the one with the reputation. Her reputation was, apparently, that she lived like a nun. Some nun she'd be after this.

He gave a small growl and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her on top of him. Ruth laughed and readjusted herself so her legs straddled his, their bellies were pressed together with her breasts on his chest, and her elbows beside his head to prop her up. "I promise, Ruth, I would not have waited more than a year after meeting you and taken you out to dinner if I just wanted you for sex."

"Oh? So what do you want me for?" she asked.

"Everything," he said, putting his hand on her cheek again. He brushed her hair out of her face and gazed up at her adoringly. "I serve at your pleasure, Your Highness."

"So you don't mind me using you for sex, then?"

Harry laughed that wheezy laugh of his that she loved so much. "Anything you want, darling. I'll need a little while longer to recover, but I'm sure I can still manage another showing for you, Princess."

Ruth knew that Harry was much older than she, but he wasn't so old that he couldn't perform, obviously. He'd already performed quite admirably. "You needn't feel obligated. Besides, there's much more I want you for than just sex anyway." She leaned in for a kiss to punctuate her statement.

Their kiss deepened and grew more passionate, despite the fact that Ruth was exhausted. Harry's hands wandered her body, squeezing her bum and her breasts and settling on her hips to grind her body against his burgeoning erection. Ruth whimpered into his mouth at the sensation.

All of a sudden, Harry pulled back with a shout. Ruth rolled off him as he scrambled out of bed. "What's wrong?!" she cried.

But the answer soon presented itself. Because when Harry got out of bed, Fidget was there to take his place. "What the bloody hell is that?!" Harry shouted, pointing at the large gray ball of fur.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" Ruth lamented. "I didn't know he was in here. He…oh dear, he must have been hiding under my bed when we came upstairs. And we shut the door so he couldn't get out. This is my cat, Fidget."

"I wasn't aware I was going to be the other man in your life, Ruth. Christ, he's not happy with me, is he." Harry, seemingly totally unbothered to be completely nude, twisted around to look at the side of his abdomen. His body was riddled with scars, but there, just below his ribs, was a line of scratches dotted with blood.

"Fidget!" she scolded, "That was very rude! Oh I am sorry, Harry. Here, come into the bathroom, let me take a look at that."

She picked up Fidget, feeling extremely odd doing so when she wasn't wearing anything, and put him outside on the landing and shut the bedroom door again so he couldn't come back. She then took Harry's hand and led him through the open door to her en suite.

"Let me see," she said gently, turning on the light so she could get a better look at the scratches.

"It's fine, Ruth. Though I think we've dirtied up your sheets enough without getting my blood all over the place," he replied.

Ruth chose not to respond to that. She got a flannel and wet it with warm water to gently wash the blood away. The scratches were so small that they did not begin bleeding again, thankfully. Ruth took another towel and patted him dry. "There," she said softly. She pressed a kiss just above the injury. "All better."

Harry put a hand on her arm and guided her up from where she was bent over. "Ruth," he murmured.

"Yes?"

"Let's go back to bed. Unless there's anyone else in your room who wants me to get out."

She smiled softly up at him. "Just you and me, Harry. And I certainly don't want you to go."

"Good," he answered, softly brushing his lips on hers. "I don't want to go either."

"What do you want to do?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck again.

His hands traced down her waist and hips to her bum, pulling her closer to him. "I want to take the princess back to bed and make love to her again."

"Well, you do know we have to go to work in the morning," she pointed out. Harry's lips moved down to the side of her neck.

"You're the one who keeps my calendar. What do I have tomorrow?" he asked against her skin.

Ruth's mind was going a little foggy as she struggled to form coherent sentences, particularly when his tongue darted out. "Nothing till ten," she panted.

"Let's cancel it and stay in bed all day."

She knew he was being seductive and romantic and she did appreciate that, but Ruth could not help but start laughing. She pulled back from him to ask, "What would you say if I agreed to that?"

Harry considered for a moment and answered, "I'd be worried that I had shagged the princess right out of her mind.

Ruth swatted his chest for that, still laughing. "Must you keep calling me 'the princess?'"

"Probably not, but I find it very amusing."

"Why?"

"Because you're not what anyone might think a princess is supposed to be, and I think you're absolutely incredible and the exact type of person who should be a princess. A queen, even," he said.

Ruth took the compliment in the spirit was intended. "I would make a horrible queen, so thank goodness that's not anything we need to worry about."

"I disagree that you'd be a horrible queen, but I do agree that it's good we don't need to worry about it."

"Very diplomatic response."

"Mmm, yes," he hummed. "All this being in the capitol and in meetings with politicians seems to be rubbing off on me."

"Well, at least it's not turning you into one of them. I like you just as you are."

"That's good, but Ruth?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Can we please stop talking and go back to bed?"

"We can go back to bed, but I like talking to you."

"Oh shut up Ruth!"

Her protest turned to a shrieking laugh as he bent down, put one arm behind her legs, and scooped her up, carrying her to bed. She was still laughing when he dropped her down on the tangled bedsheets, but soon his kisses kept her mouth too occupied to laugh any more.


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve_

Bliss. That's what it was. Two months of absolute bliss. Harry was the most incredible person she'd ever known, and Ruth was in grave danger of falling madly in love with him.

From the first moment she saw him, she'd liked him. He was charming and funny and kind. He didn't put much stock in formality or pretentious scraping and bowing—something she was immensely grateful for. He was well-respected and he worked hard and he cared about the work they did. He made her laugh and his smile gave her butterflies and he made love to her in a way that made her whole body quiver with pleasure. And if she were honest with herself, she'd admit she was already in love with him. How could she not be?

They'd gotten into a bit of a routine, something that Ruth appreciated. She liked predictability and knowing where she stood whenever possible. It was something she liked about intelligence work and royalty both. There were rules of conduct to follow. Procedures and processes for efficiency and decorum. As an analyst, it was her job to work within those confines and see beyond them to find answers. As a princess, it was her job to maintain grace and poise under any and all circumstances. Ruth knew she was a much better analyst than a princess.

But with Harry, the routine was a comfort. They worked all day every day together. He would take her out to dinner or to the cinema or to a play at least once a week and then take her home and take her to bed. Sometimes he would come over for dinner and Marta would cook for them before taking her leave. Only Tom was ever around, and he stayed in his security office and his own quarters. She and Harry had privacy and freedom. And Harry was over so often that even Fidget had gotten used to him. No more claws while they were in bed, particularly since Ruth had gotten into the habit of making sure Fidget was left outside the bedroom when she and Harry went up. And Harry even started saying hello to the cat and not being bothered when he wound around Harry's ankles under the dining table.

Work was just as easy and fulfilling as before. Well, the work wasn't always easy, but the relationship she and Harry had at work certainly was. Ruth had taken to finishing his sentences in briefings. The first few times she'd done it, she'd nearly clapped her hands over her mouth and cursed her wretched tongue, but Harry hadn't seemed to mind. Once or twice he'd given her a little nod, which let her know she wasn't in trouble, at least. Now, he seemed to appreciate it.

The phone on her desk rang, interrupting her pointless but happy musings. She picked it up immediately. "Foreign Intelligence, this is Ruth," she answered by rote.

"Hello Ruth of Foreign Intelligence, could you come into my office for a moment, please?"

She smiled upon hearing that low, seductive voice she adored. She looked up to the window into Harry's office. He was gazing out at her with a smile of his own. Ruth felt the urge to tease him just a little bit. "And what is it you need me for, Harry?"

"Oh I can think of a whole host of things."

"Such as?" she asked with a smirk.

Harry's brow arched slightly. He paused, obviously trying to decide where he wanted to take this conversation. "Well, on a work-related basis, I need that report on San Salazar."

"Right, of course," she replied, switching back into work mode.

She was about to hang up and grab the report for him off the haphazard pile on her desk when he cut in, "But there are other things as well."

"Other things?" She looked back from her files to Harry still watching her through the window.

"Mmm," he hummed in her ear. "I've been having a rather particular fantasy this morning while sitting here bored at my desk that I certainly need you for. I keep thinking about that burgundy dress you wore to the ballet last week."

Ruth felt herself blush. She'd gotten that dress from the royal designer—every few months she was taken to a showroom to choose new clothes for herself, usually for official events and duties but certainly not limited to them—with Harry in mind. He'd commented more than once about the paleness of her skin and the way he liked to see it and touch it. Ruth was not one to show off her body but seeing the look on Harry's face when she did was absolutely priceless. That burgundy dress was floor-length and long-sleeved, but it had a daring v-neck and a high slit up the front of the full skirt. When she walked, her entire right leg up to her midthigh was exposed. And the cut was so low that she could not wear a proper bra with the dress. She'd felt wildly self-conscious until Harry gaped at her with the most immediate look of arousal that Ruth had ever seen. Never in her life had she inspired such a thing in any man. But she'd wanted to try with him, and it looked like she succeeded. Tom had driven them to and from the ballet and both in the car and in Harry's private box in the theater, his hand had been practically glued to her bare leg. And as soon as they had gone inside her house at the end of the evening, his lips had attached to the exposed skin of her chest.

"Next time you wear that dress, I think I want you to keep it on while I'm inside of you," he growled.

A rush of heat and wetness pooled between her legs and Ruth emitted a small whimper before clearing her throat. "I think the dress would get too wrinkled if I was in it while you're on top of me," she pointed out quietly.

Harry chuckled. "Oh no, it won't get as wrinkled if you're on top of me. I've been picturing us on your sofa with you straddling me."

Ruth whimpered again.

"Alright, enough of this. Bring me that report," he ordered. Without any further word, he hung up.

Poor Ruth was left there feeling a bit dazed. Somehow, some way, she wanted to make that fantasy of Harry's come true.

But she was at work and there were things to do for now. She shook herself and rummaged through her stacks of files to find that report he'd asked for. Upon finding it, she stood up, slightly wobbly, and went straight to Harry's office. It barely registered in her mind that the blinds on his window were suddenly closed.

Ruth walked into his office without knocking, something that had become her usual habit even before they started dating. "Harry, here's that…"

Her words were cut off by his lips on hers. The file fell out of her hand onto the floor as he shut the door and backed her up against it, kissing her hungrily.

They indulged for a minute or so before Ruth pulled away. "You're not supposed to do that at work," she chided.

"Yes, I know," he replied. "But I was watching you work and you just look so pretty and I couldn't resist." He kissed her again for good measure.

Ruth practically melted into a puddle right then and there. How any of this could be happening to her, the reluctant princess, she would never understand. But as that moniker flitted through her mind, her mood sobered quickly. She extricated herself from Harry's arms and bent down to pick up the fallen file.

Harry got the message and went back to a more professional distance. "I have to be home for dinner tonight, but maybe we can see a film tomorrow?" he offered.

She stood up with her file and gave him an apologetic smile. "Tomorrow's the reception, remember?"

"Ah yes, the new batch of Sirs and Dames," Harry recalled.

"I do hate going to that. I just stand there trying to look regal while Grandfather goes through that stupid ceremony with the sword and pinning medals on people," she complained.

"Yes, I remember," he said.

"Oh of course you do. But I didn't go to your ceremony. I was in school at the time."

He nodded. "Just the King and the two Princes. Which I guess to you is Grandfather and Dad and Uncle…"

"Edmund. You should get used to that, he's your next king," Ruth reminded.

"Well, when he's king, I'll learn his name."

She pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. Harry had spent most of his life on foreign bases and paying absolutely no attention to the royal family. She liked that about him. But she did feel silly sometimes reminding him who her relatives were. Almost everyone else already knew. Strangely refreshing, actually. "King Edmund, what a strange thing that will be," she thought aloud. "And that cow of a wife of his is going to be Queen. God willing, they can have children and she'll be kept busy with them and leave the rest of us alone."

"Not a fan of your aunt?" Harry laughed.

Ruth glowered slightly. "She's only five years older than me, so no, I'm not much of a fan at all."

Harry looked properly taken aback at that. He must have known that Uncle Edmund was older than Ruth's own father, which put the age difference between the Prince and his wife at more than twenty years. Ruth was well aware of that already and had been since the wedding about two months before she'd gotten to transfer to Foreign Intelligence. But there had to be heirs and marrying a young woman of good background was the best way to have them. Or so people believe. Already almost two years married and not even a hint of royal pregnancy. Ah well. None of that was really any of Ruth's concern.

She turned her attention back to Harry. He was looking at her a bit strangely, likely because she'd been lost in thought for a minute. Impulsively, she leaned in to kiss him gently.

He smiled against her lips. "So if I can't see you tonight or tomorrow, how about Friday?"

"Perfect. Is there a film you want to go see?"

"Actually, I had something else in mind."

"Oh?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come over to mine for dinner. So you can meet everyone."

Harry had never invited her to his before. She'd not thought much of it, particularly because of the security issues involved with Ruth going to new places. "I would love to, Harry, thank you," she replied happily. "You'll have to give me your address so I can pass it along to Tom. He may have to do some kind of inspection or something before I can go over, if that's alright."

"Of course," he replied understandingly. He kissed her one last time. "Now kindly leave so I can review this report and get some work done. And I'll try to keep my hands off you till I get to see you outside the office."

Ruth smiled and left before they could distract each other again.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter Thirteen_

Harry was nervous. Not nervous like he'd been on their first date, but nervous for a very different reason. This time it was not himself who he was worried of being found wanting. No, this time, he had two living, breathing, thinking, terrifying beings who might do something to jeopardize what was, in all honesty, the very best thing in his life.

He wanted so much for this to go well. It was perhaps a bit early for him to introduce Ruth to his children, but he really couldn't put it off much longer. Graham had become fascinated with what his father was up to on the nights he didn't spend at home. Catherine was less excitable about the whole thing, but even she could not prevent her obvious curiosity from showing through. He'd told them as much as he felt comfortable with. Her name was Ruth, she was very intelligent, she worked with him in Foreign Intelligence and spoke a dozen languages, she was very pretty, and Harry liked her very much. And really, that was all there was to it. The children certainly didn't need to know that the sex was absolutely phenomenal, which was the only missing highlight about Ruth in Harry's mind. Catherine was fourteen now and far too mature for her age already, but she had absolutely no need to even contemplate the idea of her father's sex life. And Graham, now twelve, was just starting to comprehend what such things were. Harry hoped to keep the boy's innocence intact just a bit longer.

As Harry paced by the door, waiting for Ruth to arrive, he hoped that she had remembered what he'd said about her attire. He absolutely adored her in clothes that showed off her lovely figure and beautiful skin, but he really did not want her in such things around his twelve-year-old son. The last thing Harry needed was for Graham to develop a crush on her.

"You're nervous."

Harry turned to see Malcolm watching him from the doorway that led to the kitchen. "Dinner ready?" Harry asked him in response.

"Nearly. But I sensed pacing, and I was right," Malcolm replied. He walked over to where Harry was paused. "What is it you're worried about? Who do you think won't like who?"

"I'm not worried about Ruth at all. She doesn't have much experience around children, I don't think, but I can't see how anyone in the world wouldn't adore her. And she's very kind and gentle, I don't think she'll have trouble with Graham and Catherine. But I just hope they don't make it difficult for her." Harry did not have great faith in his children in that regard.

"You think she'll leave you if your daughter is rude to her?"

Harry scoffed, "No, of course not, but you know Ruth's got enough to contend with. And I suppose…" He trailed off, not wanting to speak the words out loud.

"You're worried she'll decide you're not worth the effort of two difficult children," Malcolm finished.

Oh Harry hated that his friend knew him so well sometimes. But before Harry could say anything in response, the doorbell range. "Bollocks," he swore to himself. To Malcolm, he said, "Answer the door and deal with the bodyguard. Let him do whatever he needs to. I'm going to go beg Graham and Catherine to behave. Again."

He hurried upstairs and went first to Catherine's room. He knocked softly on the door, and she called for him to come in.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greeted warily.

"I promise I won't be rude," she said before he could even bring it up. Her tone was sharp, something he'd been getting used to.

"And I thank you for that. But I just…" Harry sat down on the edge of bed, looking down at the pretty pale blue duvet. He sighed and then looked back up to his daughter, staring at him from her spot perched on the pillows with a book in her hands. "Catherine, this woman is extremely important to me, and I just want this to go well." It was a moment of uncharacteristic earnestness from him toward her, and he did not know how she would take it.

Catherine searched his face, likely testing his sincerity. "Do you love her? Like you loved Mum?"

Harry did not quite know how to answer that. "Not quite."

And then his daughter said something that proved that wisdom beyond her years that Harry had suspected for a long time. "You didn't really love Mum, did you? I mean not like you're supposed to?"

He was rendered somewhat speechless at that.

"It's okay. You don't have to say. Mum knew. She would talk to me about it sometimes. Before she got really sick. She was sorry that she married you when she knew that you didn't love her enough and as much as she loved me and Graham and having us, she said it wasn't fair to bring children into a marriage that wasn't happy."

"Your mother said that?"

Catherine nodded.

Harry was amazed. Though he'd always known Jane to be an incredibly deep person. She studied literature in school, and not just as a subject to waste time on before finding a husband as so many women did. Jane had truly loved her books and their characters. She understood much more about humanity that Harry had at the time. Always better at putting things into words than he was. He had gotten a bit better at that over the years, particularly now that he had the children all on his own, but verbal expressions and the like were still not his forte. Come to think of it, Ruth had that brilliant way with words that Jane had possessed. Perhaps Harry did have something of a type.

"Dad, is she waiting for you downstairs?" Catherine asked, shaking him back to reality.

"Oh yes, probably."

"I don't think you're supposed to keep a lady waiting," she teased.

Harry smiled. "No, best not." He stood up and went towards his daughter, kissing her forehead gently. "Thank you, sweetheart."

She nodded, looking up at him affectionately—what a thing! "See you for dinner."

With that, Harry went quickly down the hall to have a quick word with Graham. His son was practically bouncing off the walls when he came into the room.

"Dad, is Ruth here!? Can I go say hello?" he asked eagerly.

"Settle down, please," Harry requested gently.

"But is she here?"

In that moment, Graham reminded Harry of something like a puppy, tripping over his own limbs and practically vibrating with excitement. "I think she is here," Harry answered. "And you and your sister will meet her at dinner. She and I are going to have a drink beforehand and I'll show her around the house a bit. Malcolm will come up and get you when it's time, alright?"

Graham deflated slightly. "Yeah, alright."

"It won't be too long. And when you do meet here, please remember to use your manners and not ask impertinent questions," Harry warned.

"Dad?" Graham began with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Yes?"

"Do you think she'll like me?"

If Graham were a little boy still, Harry would have pulled him into his arms and held him tight. But as it was, Graham was becoming a young man and deserved to be treated as such and not infantilized. "I have no doubt she'll like you. How could anyone not like you, Graham?" Harry replied warmly.

Graham brightened. "Good."

And at last, Harry could go downstairs and greet Ruth. She was waiting for him in the foyer, standing there looking slightly uncomfortable. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Harry said, jogging down the last few stairs toward her. He was extremely pleased to see that she was wearing a long black skirt and loose blue jumper.

Ruth smiled to see him. "No bother. Tom is patrolling the perimeter. Malcolm was here until something chimed in the kitchen and he rushed off."

Harry leaned in to kiss her hello. "I'm glad you're here. You look very pretty."

She looked down at herself with confusion. "You said casual. Which this is. I don't think I'd go so far as 'pretty.'"

He smiled. "I think you're pretty wearing anything. And especially pretty wearing anything," he teased.

Ruth blushed slightly at that, which he quite liked.

"Shall we have a drink? Malcolm will get us when dinner is ready."

"Yes, please. I'd like to see more of this gorgeous house."

"It's no palace," he shrugged.

Ruth swatted his arm for that remark, and they both laughed.

Harry poured her a cocktail in his study while she perused his bookshelves. They drank a toast and he took her around the main floor of the house to see the family sitting area with the television, the formal ballroom from the old days when he and Jane used to host parties, and the dining room which was all set by Malcolm. He was going to take her upstairs to see the bedrooms, but dinner was ready by then.

"You both sit, and I'll get everyone situated before I serve," Malcolm said.

Ruth had an odd look on her face at that, but Harry did not press her. She knew that if she had questions, she could ask. Harry pulled out her chair for her and took his place at the head of the table beside her. Catherine would sit on his left with Graham next to her and Malcolm on the other side of Ruth.

Graham came thundering in first. So much for settling down. "Hi Ruth, I'm Graham!" he greeted exuberantly.

"Oh…hello…" Ruth greeted in return. She immediately looked uneasy, which Harry did not like one bit. He glared at Graham, hoping the boy would calm down.

Catherine came sauntering in a second later. She got one look at Ruth and her eyes went wide. "Ruth!?"

"Yes?" Ruth responded confusedly.

Without another word, Catherine raced out of the dining room. "Catherine, sit down!" Harry called after her to no avail.

Malcolm brought the plates from the kitchen and served everyone. Catherine came running back just as he sat town. "Dad, why are you dating the princess!?" she shrieked, throwing something down at Harry's place.

There, on the front page of the newspaper, was a photograph of King George knighting someone at the ceremony from the night before. And there, behind him, was Ruth, looking poised and pretty in her pale gown and tiara.

Harry looked back up to his shocked children. "Oh, didn't I mention? Yes, this is Princess Louisa. She goes by Ruth."

"Hello," Ruth said awkwardly.

The night went much differently than Harry expected after that. Both of the children were peppering Ruth with questions about being a princess and why and how she worked with Harry if she was a princess. Ruth herself seemed to be enjoying herself, just as pleasant and happy and friendly as Harry always knew her to be. And both Graham and Catherine seemed to adore her. Which is exactly what he'd hoped for.


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter Fourteen_

After dinner and dessert, Catherine and Graham both said goodnight to Ruth. Graham impulsively gave her a hug, which Harry wasn't sure he liked, but Ruth laughed and beamed happily, hugging him back. Catherine seemed in shockingly good spirits about everything, having warmed up to Ruth immensely through the meal. And after Malcolm went back to the kitchen to clean up and the children went up to their rooms, Harry was finally alone with Ruth.

"Seems you won everyone over," he commented, wrapping his arms around her. "I knew you would."

She just hummed in response.

"I don't think Tom would like it if you spent the night, or else I'd invite you upstairs," he murmured softly, kissing her cheek.

Ruth gave a somewhat tight smile. "Yes, I should be getting home. I'll see you at work tomorrow, Harry."

"Tomorrow is Saturday, Ruth," he reminded her, moving his gentle kisses down her jaw.

"Oh. Right." Her tone was somewhat distracted, but Harry just chocked that up to the way he was nuzzling against her neck.

"You'd better leave before I can't bear to let you go," he whispered.

Ruth pulled away from him then. "Of course. I'll see you at work." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and went to the front door.

Harry was a bit taken aback from her quick departure. "Can I come by and see you tomorrow?" he asked, hurrying after her.

"I've got family things to do this weekend. I'll see you at work," she repeated.

And with that, she was gone. Harry was left standing in the foyer, watching Tom help Ruth into the car and drive off. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He had thought the evening went so well. Had he read the situation incorrectly? That would have been very unlike him.

All weekend, Harry's mood worsened. He was quiet at meals, as the dining table reminded him of when Ruth had been there with them. He replayed the evening a million times. When had she been uncomfortable? How had he missed that she was unhappy? The children were perhaps a bit enthusiastic over Ruth being a princess, but they were perfectly nice about it. And she'd seemed pleasant enough. Smiling and answering their questions patiently. And then when they'd all said goodnight, Graham's hug may have been a bit inappropriate, but that couldn't have been enough to ruin the evening, could it? Harry had told Graham before Ruth arrived that she would like him for how could anyone not like him? His son was a sweet boy and surely growing into a fine young man. Was his affection too much for her? Did she perhaps worry that Graham wanted a mother and did Ruth not want to fill such a role? Harry dearly hoped that wasn't the problem. After all, at twelve and fourteen, his children were practically grown. It wasn't as though Ruth or any other woman with whom Harry got involved would need to do too much mothering to his children. And that's not what Harry wanted Ruth for at all. Certainly she should know that by now.

As he continued to worry over what might be bothering Ruth, Harry knew he'd not get any answers or figure anything out from pure conjecture. The only thing would be to talk to Ruth himself. They'd had a rather open relationship thus far, to his mind. And at work, of course, they both were very comfortable discussing things. Disagreements and such were of no bother to either of them.

And so, on Sunday morning, after breakfast, Harry picked up the phone to call Ruth's house. Marta, the maid, answered the phone as usual.

"Hello, Marta," he greeted kindly. "It's Harry. Can I speak to Ruth, please?"

Marta hesitated slightly. "Miss Ruth is unavailable, Sir Harry," she replied.

"Could you tell her I called? And if she's able, could she ring me back today?"

"I'll let her know, sir."

"Thank you, Marta."

He hung up after that, feeling even worse than before, if possible. She had said she was doing family things. Which meant some sort of royal duty, usually. Or perhaps she was just visiting with her father or grandfather. She might actually be unavailable. Harry was surely reading too much into things. She probably wasn't avoiding him. Why should she be? Things were going well, after all. And the strangeness of Ruth's demeanor when she left his house on Friday probably wasn't an indication of anything. No use borrowing trouble. He'd see her at work tomorrow and they'd be just as happy as before.

Monday rolled around and Harry went into the office early. He usually went in at least one day on the weekends, so he was sure there was a lot for him to catch up on. There was chatter of unrest in some of the colonies, particularly the island nations, so he wanted to keep well-informed on that.

Only a few of the officers were in when Harry arrived. Ruth hadn't come in yet, which was fine. He'd speak to her later. He immediately got to work reviewing reports. And then he got a call from the Director and another from one of the other intelligence department heads. By the time he had a chance to look up again, Ruth was in the office and working hard on reports of her own. He'd not bother her yet. Maybe he'd see if she wanted to have lunch with him later. But then the phone rang again, and he was detained for another hour.

As soon as he hung up with the Director of Colonial Affairs, the door to his office opened—without knocking, of course. "Harry, I need your signature on these orders," Ruth said brusquely.

"Ah there you are," he greeted with a smile.

"Yes, I need you to sign these," she replied, not joining with his friendly demeanor.

"What am I signing?" Harry asked, hoping to get business out of the way so he could talk to her for five minutes before the bloody phone rang again.

Ruth opened the file folder and put it on his desk. "Renewing contracts with these assets," she replied.

He quickly skimmed over each one before signing, as they all seemed to be in order and Ruth could obviously be trusted to not put anything in front of him that wasn't correct.

"Thank you," she said, collecting the file as soon as he'd signed the last page.

"Hang on a moment," he called before she could leave.

She turned back toward him. "Yes, Harry, what do you need?"

It was clear to him that she was not in a very personable mood. Probably best not to discuss private matters right now. "Can I take you to dinner tonight?" he asked.

Ruth averted her gaze from his, looking down at the floor. "No, I don't think so."

"Alright, tomorrow?"

She looked back up at him. "I think it's best if we don't go out together anymore. It isn't right, you carrying on a romantic relationship with a subordinate. It undermines your authority, and that is unacceptable. People…people are laughing about it."

Harry's head was swimming. Was she...breaking up with him? What had begun as a slight worry that she hadn't liked his children had been blown into something altogether different. Office gossip? Who bloody cared about office gossip?! "What do you mean?" he asked. His voice came out embarrassingly feeble.

"People know that we've been together and I just…I don't like being talked about. It's fine when it's Princess Louisa in the papers, I know that comes with the territory. But people here know me as _me_, Harry. And I've worked so hard to prove that I'm more than just the princess whose father got her a job in the government, and now for people to think I'm sleeping my way up the ladder?"

"Who's saying that?" he demanded. How anyone could think that was appalling.

"I don't know, but they will," she replied weakly.

That did it. There was no office gossip. She was inventing reasons for them to stop seeing each other, and Harry would have none of it. "Ruth, I have witnessed the most gruesome atrocities known to man. I have seen and done the worst that could ever be conceived. I have been captured and tortured during war. And if you think someone laughing at me is going to bother me…"

"This isn't about you, Harry!" she snapped. "I just…please, just drop this."

"No, Ruth, I won't drop this. You've been avoiding me, haven't you, since Friday? You came to my house and met my children and now you're making excuses. Now out with it!" he insisted. "Was it Graham or Catherine? Did they do or say something to upset you?"

She shook her head. Her face was growing red and tears were forming in her eyes that she was trying to keep from falling, he could tell. "No, your children are wonderful. Smart and sweet and wonderful."

"Then what is it?" he pressed.

"Before Friday, I didn't know that they existed!"

That wasn't what he'd expected her to say at all. "What do you mean, you didn't know they existed? I know I don't talk about my family much, but you've read my personnel file, you know I have children."

"No, Harry. I read your service record. Once we started seeing each other, I assumed I'd learn about you from our spending time together. And you don't just 'not talk about your family much.' You have never once mentioned the fact that you have children. And the amount of time you spend with me instead of with them? That's not right, Harry. You should be at home. You should be with your family. I know what it's like to grow up without a mother, and I cannot imagine what I would have done if my father was off in some woman's bed instead of with me. I know Graham and Catherine have Malcolm, but it's not the same. You're their father."

Her words were well out of line. And Harry knew he should have reacted calmly and explained things. But he couldn't. He got angry. "So that's it, is it? You want us to stop seeing each other because I'm a bad father? Christ, Ruth, I've been a bad father most of their lives but at least I'm with them now! And my parenting is my business and not any of your concern."

"No, but what is my concern is the fact that I've been sleeping with a man I apparently know nothing about! What else have you not thought to tell me? What other vital information about you have you decided I don't need to be aware of? Should I compile a research report on your life just so I can be better educated?"

"No, don't be stupid."

"I didn't think I was being stupid, but apparently I have been since I met you. But don't worry about it, Harry, you've got enough to handle. I'll not bother you for anything that isn't work related anymore."

And with that, she stormed out of his office. He watched her go back to her desk and organize the file of signed orders and start making phone calls. The crease between her brows of concentration and frustration was deeper than usual, but she otherwise did not look like anything was wrong. Harry, on the other hand, felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his whole world.


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter Fifteen_

Harry was in a rotten mood for two weeks straight. He preferred to be angry, as it was easier than allowing himself to be heartbroken. He was hurt and lashing out where he shouldn't have been, snapping at people at work and staying shut up in his office as much as humanly possible. Thankfully no one bothered to ask what was wrong, as it would have been inappropriate to do so, but everyone obviously knew he wasn't himself.

But perhaps this was Harry being himself. Perhaps this was who he'd be now. He was the director of a vitally important department. People should be a bit wary of him. After all, he'd once had quite a reputation as a dangerous and somewhat reckless man. Those were the qualities that made him a hero all those years ago. He'd mellowed considerably after the war, though not many people knew that. His contact with people had been limited to his various foreign assignments and the officers on his bases. And then, of course, once Jane had died and left him responsible for the children, he'd tried to minimize the reckless behavior as best he could. The only real foolish risk he'd taken in many years was falling in love with Ruth.

What a bloody mistake that was. He'd allowed himself to truly care for a woman for the first time since he'd been married. He had found someone with whom he wanted to share his life and his time and all those intimate thoughts and feelings that he'd always tamped down inside himself. And he wanted to know her, too. He loved to watch her do anything, loved to listen to her speak, loved to be with her at any given moment. But of course, he'd cocked it all up, as he always did. He'd been so concerned with not pressuring her when it came to the children that he'd not even told her about them. Bloody stupid. He'd failed the trust she placed in him, and Harry knew better than most that trust was hard to come by and even harder to regain once lost.

Harry allowed himself a small break in his anger to look out the window of his office to where Ruth was sitting at her desk, hard at work. There was an ache in his chest at knowing he couldn't see her other than like this, could kiss her or touch her or fall asleep beside her ever again. He was about to turn forty in a few months' time; perhaps his foolishly optimistic belief that he might have another chance at a happy home and family was best pushed aside now. It had been so long since he'd found any woman he genuinely liked more than for a few weeks of sex, what were the odds that he'd find another at his age?

He sighed to himself and knew he had to get back to work. But before he looked away, Ruth lifted her head and met his gaze. There was a flash of palpable pain in her eyes that nearly broke his heart all over again. He had hurt her, and now they were both punished for it. He wanted to beg for her to come back to him, but he knew he couldn't. She was his subordinate and he could not get even close to the line of pressuring her. And, of course, she was a princess and he had no business even thinking he was worthy of her time and attention.

Ruth blinked quickly and turned away, as did Harry. He had work to do. Best be getting on with that.

That night, he was home rather late. He'd been doing that often, staying late at work. He was home for dinner now less often than when he'd spent two or three nights a week with Ruth. He spent every night in his own bed, but he really only bothered to be in the house to sleep and shower and change his clothes. He knew he should be with Graham and Catherine more, but he could not bear, just yet, letting them see his sadness. And he certainly did not want to take his anger out on them. Better that he kept away.

No such luck tonight. He got home and went directly into his office, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top buttons of his uniform as he poured himself a large scotch. He did not notice that he was not alone in the room.

"Why are you sad?"

He nearly dropped the bottle in surprise. Harry whirled around to see Catherine sitting on the leather sofa, hidden by shadows. "What are you doing in here?" he asked, not answering her question.

"You're never home anymore, but I know you always come in here before you go to bed," she replied somewhat smugly. "So now that I've managed to stay up far too late so I can see you for more than two minutes in a day, tell me why you're sad."

Sometimes Harry really disliked having such an emotionally intelligent and incredibly forthright child. He could never get much past Catherine. She was so bloody observant and clever. Perhaps a bit too cynical sometimes—that was surely the influence of his genetics and his absent parenting—but she was a fierce girl and Harry was constantly caught off guard by her.

Harry knew he needed to take the unusual opportunity presented to him. Catherine deserved to understand what was going on, particularly since it did affect her and her brother through his even poorer parenting than usual. He poured a bit more scotch in his glass and crossed to the sofa where she sat, taking a seat beside her. Catherine just sat quietly, watching him and waiting.

"Ruth and I are no longer seeing each other," he said simply.

Catherine frowned. "Oh what did you do!? Dad, she's so nice and she doesn't deserve to be treated badly!"

He took a sip of scotch, allowing the burn of it to fill his throat. "You're right. She doesn't deserve to not know the truth, but I'm afraid I made a mistake."

"You didn't cheat on her?"

"No!" he exclaimed. The very idea of being unfaithful to Ruth, the very thought that he could find another woman he might want, the very concept of having his head turned away from her, it was all ludicrous to him. Though, with his track record, Catherine was probably right to ask.

"So what did you do?"

"I don't think most fathers would tell their daughters the details of a romantic relationship," he pointed out.

She scoffed, "Most daughters probably wouldn't ask. And besides, I don't want to know the details of your romantic relationship. I want to know what mistake you made to cause Ruth to dump you."

Harry nearly asked her why she assumed Ruth had dumped him, but that was a stupid question. Of course the end of their relationship could only be due to Ruth dumping him. Harry had been the one to tell Catherine himself how important Ruth was to him. And now, of course, his daughter was armed with far too much knowledge. So he had to tell her. "Apparently she was upset by my bad parenting."

"What?!" Obviously Catherine hadn't expected that. "How does she know you're a crap dad?"

"Thanks," he grumbled. "My mistake was that I didn't tell her I had children. We've been seeing each other for months and she never knew, and she was upset that I've been spending my time with her instead of with my children."

"How did she not know? You never mentioned us at all?"

"I assumed she did know. She works with me. She's got access to my file and my records. You and Graham and your mother are all mentioned in there. I thought she knew."

But that wasn't the part that bothered Catherine. "Dad, you never told her about us? Not once? She met us and had no idea who we were?"

"I suppose so."

She went quiet, thinking. She started muttering to herself, "Well, I suppose you never told your other women you were married with children back then, why would you get in the habit now?"

Harry drank some more scotch. "That's not very nice, but I can't say you're wrong," he conceded.

"But I thought Ruth was special? Don't you love her?"

"Yes," he admitted. "And she is very special. That's why I wanted her to meet you. You've never met anyone else I've ever dated, have you?"

"No, that's true. But Ruth dumped you because you surprised her with us? Oh Graham's going to be so upset," Catherine realized aloud.

"I know. I don't know how I'm going to tell him. That's part of why I've been working late recently. I knew he'd ask about her, and I don't want him to think she didn't like him or that it's his fault, because it's not."

"Did she say anything about us?" she asked in a nervous voice.

Harry looked at his daughter, seeing her look so small and vulnerable, more like a child than he had seen her be in quite some time. He put his empty glass on the side table and pulled Catherine into his arms, kissing her forehead. "She said you were wonderful. The both of you. Smart and sweet and wonderful. Which is quite true. Nothing about this is your fault at all."

Catherine snuggled against him. "I'll tell Graham tomorrow. If you promise to come home for dinner so he can ask you questions himself after I tell him."

"I promise."

She sighed sadly. "What a bloody mess."

Harry chuckled at that, causing both their bodies to shake. "Yes, it really is." He kissed her once more and then patted her arm. "Alright, it's bedtime for both of us, I think. I have a morning meeting, so I'll be here for a quick breakfast before I have to go."

"Alright," she replied, getting up off the sofa. "Goodnight, Dad."

The next morning, Harry was in a slightly kinder mood than he had been for a while. He drank his coffee while reviewing a non-classified report to prepare for his meeting with some politicians later. He'd not yet looked at the newspaper.

Graham, however, got his hands on it first thing. "Dad, look!" he exclaimed.

Harry looked up. "Hmm?"

The front page had a huge photo of Ruth in all her royal regalia, looking elegant and somewhat somber. The headline read, "Princess Louisa Birthday Celebration."

"Her birthday is next week, Dad. Can we have a party for her here with just us?"

Harry was glad he didn't have to explain that, even under other circumstances, they would not be invited to the state dinner in Ruth's honor. But Harry also did not have the heart to tell Graham the truth. Not just now, not at breakfast. "We'll see," he said simply.

And with that, he finished his coffee and folded up the report and stood from the table. "I've got a meeting. I'll be home for dinner," he announced.

Catherine passed him in the hallway, giving him an encouraging smile.

"Ruth's on the front page of the newspaper," Harry warned her.

She sighed. "Alright. You go. I'll talk to Graham. See you tonight."

He gave her a small hug and left for the day, amazed and extremely grateful to have his daughter as his ally.


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter Sixteen_

In the Seventeenth Century, Albert the Emancipator led the army to defeat the reigning Ferlish invaders to set the native people of the land free from bondage to become the first monarch of House Everard. He was twenty-four years old when he was crowned. Despite the prowess he showed in battle and the incredible leadership he conveyed, there was much concern over his young age. But his elders had faith in him, and he was popular amongst the people. Still, one of the first laws the Legislature passed was to ensure that no monarch could ever reign until their twenty-fourth year. If a king died when his heir was younger than that, a provisional monarch would be put in place until the heir turned twenty-four and could then be properly crowned.

And so came the tradition forever thereafter that all members of House Everard, whether next in line for the throne or not, were widely feted for their twenty-fourth birthday. Ruth, of course, did not enjoy being celebrated in any sense. She and her father both did not enjoy being the center of attention. Uncle Edmund and Grandfather both loved it. And Uncle Edmund's wife loved it even more. But it wasn't their birthdays being celebrated, it was Ruth's. And she had no choice but to be given a lavish birthday party.

Many weeks before, she had asked that the official, formal party thrown at the palace be on the weekend before her birthday, as the day itself when she would turn twenty-four was in the middle of the week and she had to work and did not want to take the day off just to be shoved into a gown and paraded in front of the aristocracy and toasted till no one could speak clearly anymore. She had wanted to have the official party beforehand because she had hoped that she could spend the weekend after her birthday with Harry. Obviously that wasn't an option now. But what was done was done.

The celebration that Grandfather put on in her honor had been wonderful. The gown chosen for her had been silver, her customary color, but far more outlandishly beautiful than any she'd ever worn before. It was a ballgown, fit for a princess, to be sure. Covered in sparkling beads and genuine crystals. The skirt was so full, Ruth had trouble fitting into a chair and was forced to remain standing with a two-foot berth around her all evening. Which was all for the best, actually. She had not been in a celebratory mood at all.

During the party, Dad had danced with her and asked her what was wrong. She'd not seen him much since it all happened, so she found herself explaining more than was probably right to say at a party. She told him that she had been seeing her boss, romantically, and that things had come to light that caused her to rethink their relationship and she had ended it. He had pressed her for more information, which forced her to confess that Harry had children that he'd never told her about and though she'd met them and liked them very much, she had far too many concerns about trusting him to feel comfortable being with him.

"Ruth, dear, do you love him?"

She blushed bright red when he asked her that. "We were only together a few months…"

"But you've known him for what, a year?"

"A year and a half."

"And?"

Ruth could hardly bring herself to say it. "Yes," was all she managed.

"The way I see it, dear, a father has trouble finding romance. Most women don't want to raise someone else's children. If Harry kept them from you, it was probably so that you could get to know him as himself, not as your boss and not as a father."

"He said he thought I knew."

"I'm sure he thought you did. I don't imagine a man you'd fall in love with would be the kind of man to keep things from you like that, is that right?" Dad pointed out.

Ruth sighed. "I suppose."

Dad smiled at her. "And if you love him, I think you both deserve another chance to see if you can make things work. I'm sure he's miserable without you."

"How do you know?"

"Oh any man would be miserable without you, dear. I know I am."

She laughed and kissed his cheek as they twirled around the dancefloor. It was in her mind to ask him if he'd ever tried to find romance after her mother died, if being a father had been a hindrance for him in that department. But part of her did not want to know the answer.

After dancing with Dad, she shared a dance with Uncle Edmund, with a number of members of the Legislature and various noblemen, and finally with her grandfather. It was tradition that the King dance the last dance of the evening and then thanked his guests for being there, thus ending the party. Ruth had been dying for that final dance all night.

The following day, photographs from the party were all over the newspapers. She hated her picture in the newspaper, and with her twenty-fourth birthday, there seemed to be something about her every single day for a week. It was exhausting. And even worse, people started talking to her at work about it. Four women complimented her on the gown by the time Ruth had finished her morning coffee. It was meant in kindness, of course, but anything about Princess Louisa that got brought into her life as Ruth, Operational Liaison of Army Foreign Intelligence, always felt so odd to her.

On Tuesday, the day of her actual birthday—which thankfully no one knew—she arrived in the office at her usual time and went right to her desk to start her day. Only her desk was not as she'd left it the night before. There was a flat box wrapped in red paper with a thick envelope on top with her name handwritten on the back. It was handwriting she knew very well.

She looked over at the window to Harry's office. The blinds were closed. Interesting. She turned back to the envelope and opened it cautiously. Inside was a very simple card with a picture of some wildflowers and printed script reading Happy Birthday. She opened the card and two smaller envelopes fell out. She put them aside and read the inscription in the card.

_Ruth,  
__ I hope you have a happy birthday. You looked so beautiful in the gown at your formal party last weekend, and I wish I could have seen it in person and not just in the paper. Though I suppose that is inappropriate of me to say now. I hope you'll forgive me, it being your birthday and all. Please accept these small tokens of my affection as your superior, if nothing more. And I was instructed to include these other notes in with mine, though I will confess I've not read them so I cannot prepare you for what they might say.  
__ All the best,  
__ Harry_

She wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean, but Harry getting her a birthday present was incredibly sweet. He probably had planned something for her birthday, before all this mess. He was like that, thoughtful about events and such. Though, honestly, all she had wanted to do for her birthday was spend the whole weekend at home with him and Fidget, watching television and making love and lazing about in bed together. That was what she enjoyed most, just being with him. They had been so happy.

Ruth shook herself and stopped that train of thought. She ripped the red wrapping paper and opened the box. Inside was a book about cats and a soundtrack recording from her favorite movie. It wasn't fancy jewelry or anything extravagant, as she might have expected from Harry. No, these were simple gifts. But made all the more special than anything else because these were gifts that showed that he knew her. He knew she had a cat—something very few other people did—and he knew what her favorite movie was. No one in the world knew what her favorite movie was, not even her father. But Harry knew. They'd watched it together on television on one of those lazy Saturday mornings they'd joyously spent wearing very little clothing and snuggling up on her sofa with Fidget. Harry knew her favorite movie. He knew her and he remembered and he'd given her these gifts for her birthday, even after she'd ended their romance.

Before she could get too overwhelmed and start crying at her desk, she turned to the other two envelopes. Each said her name on the back, each in different handwriting that she did not recognize. She opened one and was surprised with what she found.

_Dear Ruth,  
I hope you have a good birthday. I asked Dad if we could have a party for you, since I like having parties for my birthday, but he said you get to have a fancy one at the palace because you're a princess and we wouldn't be invited. And then Catherine said you and Dad aren't together anymore. I think Dad's really sad about it, because he's been gone a lot. He used to be gone a lot before, but he's been better lately.  
__ He used to talk about you a lot. He said you were smart and kind and beautiful, and I am really glad I finally got to meet you before it ended. I am sorry you and my dad aren't together anymore. I really liked getting to meet you. Catherine found that book you told me about at the library at our school and I'm going to start reading it. Maybe I can write to you and tell you about it? Dad can deliver letters back and forth, if that's okay with you. Anyway, I hope I get to see you again sometime, but I know that I probably won't. I think you're really nice, and I hope your birthday is good.  
__ From, Graham_

Ruth could not believe what Graham had written in that note. That he had written her at all was incredible. Harry had told Graham about her? Well, he'd never told her about Graham. But he was a sweet boy, very excitable and earnest. The book she'd told him about had been one of her favorites when she was about his age, and the idea that he wanted to read it on her recommendation was more than she imagined. Had she really made such an impact on him? Apparently she had. She read the note three more times before she turned to the other.

_Ruth,  
__ It was Graham's idea to write to you for your birthday, once Dad explained everything. And I thought for a long time what I wanted to say. Dad told me why you dumped him, which I guess makes sense. I can imagine it was a shock to meet us if you didn't know we existed. And Dad was an idiot for not warning you or talking about us at all. But the thing is, my dad is an idiot when it comes to things like this. My Mum used to talk about how reckless and wild he was, how he'd go off and cheat on her and do whatever he wanted. But he's not like that anymore. He was really happy with you. And since things ended, he's been so sad. He's been avoiding being at home again. Even when he was spending nights at your place, he was still home for dinner and spent time with us otherwise. And he never used to do that before. You made him want to be better, I think. He wanted to be the kind of man who was worthy of you. And not even that you're a princess, you're just really great. I can see why he loves you. And I'm sorry it didn't work out because both me and Graham would have liked to know you better. Dad's never brought anyone to meet us before, so I hope we didn't scare you off. And if you're worried about him being with you making him an absent father, I promise it's the opposite. He pulls away and gets grumpy when he's sad. We've missed him these last few weeks. And I know it's because he's missed you. So if you love him like I really hope you do, I hope you'll give him another chance.  
__ Oh and I found that book you mentioned to Graham and he wants to read it so he can talk to you about it, so if you could at least answer his letters, that would be really nice. Thanks.  
__ Catherine_

Ruth read over Catherine's letter about a dozen times. She was so wrapped up in those words that she forgot she was at work until her phone rang. As she answered, she put the letters and the card and the gifts under her desk to take home later and she rummaged around for her files so she could properly start her day. Everything else would have to wait.


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter Seventeen_

The day was extremely busy. Ruth was on the phone half the day managing the changeover of officers in Arelland. It wasn't her responsibility, strictly speaking, but she was fluent in the language and it was her responsibility to oversee the department on Harry's behalf. And really, it was probably the best way to spend her birthday. Just at work, doing what she was best at. This was what she was best at, she knew. She was good at this job. Bloody good at it.

And it was good to be busy today and to keep her mind off of Harry and the letters from his children. That was going to give her quite a lot to think about. Catherine's letter particularly.

When Ruth had met Catherine, it had been clear that the girl was reticent about her. But upon realizing who she was—Princess Louisa, not just Ruth who worked with her father—Catherine's whole demeanor had changed. Ruth found her to be a remarkably smart and intuitive girl. And though Graham was the spitting image of Harry, it was Catherine who had his mannerisms and his demeanor. She was obviously extremely observant and intuitive like her father as well, if that letter was anything to go by.

Catherine had said that Harry loved her. Was that true? Had he told her that? He had not said those words to Ruth, though she flattered herself to suspect that he might love her. After all, theirs was not a relationship of convenience in any way. Ruth herself was a bit of a mess, she knew, and the difficulty of maintaining a romance amidst their work and especially around her royal duties was quite significant. Harry Pearce was not the kind of man to put forth effort where he didn't want to. He was duty-bound, of course, but he had no duty to her. None but the duty of a man to the woman he loves. So maybe that was true.

In her letter, Catherine had also surmised that Ruth loved Harry as well. And though she had similarly not told Harry that, Ruth knew it to be true. Oh god, how she loved him! Ending their relationship had been the worst thing she'd ever done. And it was because she loved him that she ended it. Because how far could things really go between them? She was a princess and he was a father. The former they had managed to contend with while things were relatively informal between them, but the latter made things far more serious. She could not carry on a fling with a man who had children. And Ruth was only ten years older than Catherine! Well, the age gap between Harry and herself had always been in the back of Ruth's mind, but being so close in age to his daughter was mildly alarming. Was it as distasteful as Uncle Edmund and his cow of a wife who was only five years Ruth's senior? Well, Ruth wasn't Uncle Edmund's daughter, so perhaps that was slightly less upsetting. Still, it was more for Ruth to think about.

She got a surprise in the afternoon while she was on a call when Harry, shut up in his office with the blinds drawn all day, walked past her wearing his coat and carrying his briefcase. A sure sign he was leaving for the day. He hadn't even said two words to her. Not that he had reason to. He'd left the birthday gifts on her desk and he'd said more in his card than perhaps he should have. But still, it would have been nice to see him so at least she could have said thank you to him.

Ruth could not spare too much thought, as she was translating over the phone. But thankfully, the time difference with Arelland meant that their workday was finished much sooner than hers would be. She could put that project aside for the time being and finally breathe for a moment.

She pulled the birthday gifts from Harry out from under her desk to look at them. The best birthday gifts she'd ever been given, honestly. Because they were gifts from a man who cared about her. Maybe even loved her. And they were gifts that showed that he knew her and wanted to give her something she would like. Not something beautiful and expensive and objectively exciting, but something that _she_ would like.

Without another thought, Ruth gathered the gifts and the card from Harry with the notes from Graham and Catherine tucked inside, and she picked up her purse and walked right out. Tom was standing sentinel outside the door, as always and hurried to catch up with her as she walked purposefully down the hall.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

It was an impertinent question, but it was his job to know such things and, after all, he'd have to drive her there. "To Harry's house," she instructed.

"I wasn't informed," he replied crossly.

"I just decided about ten seconds before I told you, so don't feel too put out."

Twenty minutes later, driving through the capitol in the height of traffic, Tom parked the car outside the Pearce house. Mansion, really. It was much grander than Ruth's own townhouse. Though it would be, Harry being a war hero and having children and a live-in butler. Ruth just had her cat and a maid and a security officer. If it were up to her, she'd just have the cat.

Tom walked the perimeter as was his way, and Ruth rang the bell at the front door.

"Ruth!" Malcolm greeted in surprise. "How nice to see you!"

"Hello, Malcolm," she greeted in return. "Is Harry in? I need to talk to him."

Malcolm let her inside. "He's not in yet, I'm afraid. But he should be home before supper. The children are here, though. Just got back from school."

She could not help but give a soft smile. "May I see them, then, while I wait for Harry?"

"Of course."

Before he could go fetch the children, Graham came out of his room for something and saw Ruth from the landing. He gasped her name excitedly and hurried to his sister's room, banging on her door. "Cat, Ruth's here!" he shouted.

Ruth was a bit overwhelmed by the attention but his enthusiasm made her laugh. He came barreling down the stairs to her.

"Happy birthday, Ruth! Did you get my letter?" Graham asked excitedly.

"I did! That was so sweet of you. Thank you so much. Have you started reading that book yet?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "I'm almost half through! I can't wait to talk to you about it. But it's your birthday, did you come so we could have a party for you?" He turned to Malcolm. "Can we bake a cake for Ruth? It's her birthday, she needs a cake."

Catherine came down the stairs much less energetically than her brother. She looked at Ruth very curiously. It gave Ruth an idea.

Malcolm was telling Graham that they could bake a cake but only if he helped, so Ruth interrupted, "Graham, why don't you go help Malcolm and then come talk to me about the book once the cake is in the oven and you're waiting for it. I'd like to talk to Catherine for a little while until you're free, if that's okay."

Graham dragged Malcolm into the kitchen and Catherine nodded in agreement. "You want to talk to me?"

"Yes, where would you like to go? Your room, maybe?"

"You want to see my room?"

"If it's not too personal to ask," Ruth said quickly, realizing that a teenaged girl probably did not want anyone to come into her room ever for any reason.

But Catherine shrugged. "Sure, let's go to my room." She led Ruth upstairs. The room Catherine took her to was a bit untidy, clothes and pillows and things strewn about on the floor. The bed was made but very rumpled. All of the furniture was wooden and painted white. The walls were a soothing blue and the duvet on the bed matched.

"It's very pretty," Ruth complimented. "Did you pick out the blue?"

"No, my mum did. Blue for me and green for Graham. I don't know why. My bedsheets were all pink when I was little. But now I have the white and blue."

"I'd imagine it feels like falling asleep on a cloud."

"That's why I picked the colors."

The two shared a soft, quiet smile.

"So…you wanted to talk?"

"Yes," Ruth replied, getting down to it. "I got your letter. And I want to thank you for it. I can't imagine it was easy to put all those things into words and to take such a chance on behalf of your dad like that."

Catherine shrugged again. "Well, he didn't seem like he was going to do anything about it. And I know he misses you. Are you here because you missed him?"

Ruth nodded. "And I thought he'd be here. He left about half an hour before I did. But he…" A memory of the department day planner popped into her mind. "Oh damn, he's meeting with the Legislature today, I'd forgotten."

A teasing smile played on Catherine's lips. "You're not really supposed to swear in front of kids."

"You're hardly a kid, Catherine," Ruth pointed out. "And I cannot imagine your father follows that rule."

She laughed, "No, he doesn't."

"You should hear the way he complains about the politicians," Ruth said, laughing in return. "Actually, on second thought, you probably shouldn't."

The two ladies continued laughing and talking. Catherine showed Ruth some of her prized possessions, including her collection of film posters and the books about history that she loved. They were interrupted a while later by Graham, wanting to talk to Ruth about the book he was reading. At that point, Ruth followed Graham to his room and left Catherine to finish up her homework. Graham sat on his bed—gray bedding on white furniture similar to Catherine's but the walls of his room were all a rather attractive forest green—and regaled her with everything he'd read so far. She asked him about parts she recalled, if he liked them too. They talked about their favorite characters and Ruth teased him with hints about what was coming next in the story. They probably could have continued much longer if Malcolm had not come to tell Graham that the cake was coming out of the oven.

Ruth, Catherine, and Graham all went down to the kitchen with Malcolm. Graham and Malcolm made frosting while Catherine used her surprising artistic talent with gum paste to make decorations. Ruth offered to help but was not as skilled as Catherine. They had fun anyway.

"What's going on here?"

Everyone turned to see Harry, still in his uniform, standing in the kitchen doorway.

Graham, hands covered in frosting, announced, "Dad, Ruth came to celebrate her birthday with us! We're making her a cake!"

Harry looked to Ruth. "I forgot you were in that meeting. I came to speak with you, but we all got a bit carried away."

"You'd better come into my study."

Ruth nodded. She put down the gum paste flower she was trying to make and noticed that her hands were stained with dye. The children and Malcolm carried on as Ruth hurried to follow Harry.

They went into his study, where they'd spent some time the last time Ruth had been to his house, and he closed the door behind them.

"It's your birthday, Ruth, what are you doing here?" he asked softly.

She watched as he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. Her mouth went a bit dry. "I…erm…I wanted to talk to you. And…and thank you for my birthday presents."

He nodded. "I'm glad you liked them."

"They're the best presents I've ever received, honestly. But I also wanted to talk to you about what Graham and Catherine wrote to me."

Harry braced himself, as he obviously did not know what his children had told her.

"Graham wanted to have a birthday party for me. So hopefully this goes well and I don't have to leave before we can have cake. I wouldn't like to disappoint him. He's a very sweet boy. But it's really Catherine I wanted to talk about."

"Oh Christ, what did she say?"

"Well, she said you were an idiot but that you love me and I should give you another chance."

Harry's jaw dropped. Ruth's heart thundered in her chest and her blue-dyed hands were wringing nervously.

"Is that true?"

"That I'm an idiot? Yes, I think so," he replied.

She took a step toward him. They were close enough to reach out and touch each other, but neither did. Not yet. "No," she clarified, "is it true that you love me?" It was a terribly bold thing to ask and Ruth had no idea where that kind of bravery was coming from. Maybe because Catherine had already put so much in that letter. Maybe because Ruth felt so sure that this was the right thing to do. It amazed her, sometimes, what she could do when she felt it was right.

"Yes, of course it's true," Harry told her softly. He reached up to cup her cheek, just as he'd done that night of their first date.

Ruth smiled and nuzzled into his hand slightly. "I love you, too," she replied.

A great beaming smile appeared on Harry's face. "I'm going to have to thank my children for being so nosy, but first I'd very much like to kiss you, if that's alright."

"It's my birthday, Harry, I'd be quite cross if you didn't kiss me."

And kiss her he did.


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter Eighteen_

Ruth woke on Sunday with Harry's arms around her. It had been just shy of a week since her birthday when she and Harry had rekindled their romance, and they'd been quite happy ever since. She had come over to his for dinner twice already since her birthday to see Graham and Catherine and Malcolm. The more she got to know all of them, the more she liked them. Catherine seemed to have warmed to her; after barely a week, Ruth thought of her as something of a friend.

But every night that Harry did not spend at home with his family and Ruth at the dinner table, he spent in her bed. God she'd missed him so much. The sex and the comfort and just everything about him. He was more open with her now that she'd met his children. He told her things about himself that he hadn't before. Perhaps it was because they had professed their love for each other or perhaps it was just that Harry had learned to not assume she already knew things. Either way, everything was going so well and they were happy.

On Sunday, however, Harry had to go back home and Ruth had to go see her father for lunch. They did that about once a month, had lunch together in the old house where Ruth had grown up, where her father still lived. It was nice to see him outside the usual bustle of their formal royal duties. And she did not go home as often as she used to, now that she worked in Foreign Intelligence. He was pleased that she was so devoted to her job, but they certainly both missed each other. After all, when Ruth's mother died when she was eleven, she and her father were all each other had. Uncle Edmund wasn't much of a sentimental type, and Grandfather obviously had enough else to be getting on with. Ruth was very much her father's daughter, and she was looking forward to seeing him.

And so after Harry kissed her goodbye—in the bedroom, on the stairs, by the front door—Ruth hurried to shower and dress for the day so Tom could drive her out to the countryside to Leister Palace.

Of the various regions of the country, Leister was closest to the capitol. The drive was not too long. And Ruth loved to see the change in landscape as they took the main road through the city and out past the suburbs. The city had the most miraculous mix of architecture from the last five hundred years, particularly since so much had to be rebuilt after the war. The suburbs were filled with houses of all sizes and all kinds, from the city homes of nobility to the attached tenements of the working class.

Ruth liked to look at everything and wonder about what sort of lives those people led. Lives she would never really understand and lives she would certainly never live. Though her life was just as incomprehensible to them. What would it be like to go to work and go home each day, go to the market for herself, do her own cooking, pay bills, buy clothes? What would it be like to fall in love and get married and have children and feed her family and send them off to school each day?

She shook her head as the dense forests of the countryside came into view. She smiled. These were her woods. As a child, she would take whatever book she was reading and run away from her nannies and find a place to sit and read under one of the mighty trees surrounding the palace. Happy memories of exploring the woods and letting her imagination run wild. Oh she loved those woods.

The trees thinned as the palace gates came up upon them. Wrought iron topped with gold, opening to reveal the white masonry and sweeping front staircase and high-peaked dark gray shingles. It was a grand estate, though by no means a castle fortress. Leister Palace. Ruth was home.

Ruth got out of the car without bothering to wait for Tom. She didn't need her bodyguard here. The Royal Guard had a full setup here at Leister Palace. They were not protecting heirs to the throne, but the Prince was an important royal and got an impressive contingent.

"There you are, what kept you?"

She grinned as she walked through the front door, opened for her by the guard, and was greeted by her father. "Hi, Dad."

He came over and hugged her tight. She immediately noticed a difference in him from when they'd danced together only a week before.

"You alright?" she asked with concern.

Dad just gave a tight smile. "Let's have lunch. It's waiting in the dining room."

When she was little, they never sat in the main dining room on ordinary days. That was reserved for holidays and for when important people came to visit. Now, however, Dad had decided that Ruth's presence was a very special occasion and he insisted that their luncheons be served in there.

They made their way to the dining room and Ruth took her father's arm. Though she felt him use her for support, something she'd never felt him do before. But he had wanted to have lunch, so she did not press him for more information yet.

Lunch was extravagant and delicious as always. Dad asked how her birthday had been, and she told him about the gifts from Harry and the notes from Catherine and Graham and how she'd gone to his house and they had reconciled.

"You see? I told you he was miserable without you. And you look much happier now, dear."

"I am," she confirmed. "I love him and he loves me, and I have never been happier."

He smiled softly at her. "I'm very glad to hear that. I want you to be happy. And I want you to have someone to take care of you."

"I don't need to be taken care of," she said, bristling at the implication.

"I know you don't. But I'm glad you have someone nonetheless. Someone who loves you. Someone for you to share your life with."

Ruth looked at him curiously. "Dad, is everything alright?"

The Prince waved his hand and the servants who were in the room left and closed the doors behind them. He turned back to Ruth. "About a month ago, I was having a bit of trouble with my digestion. I saw my doctor and he ran some tests. And he found tumors. It's cancer."

There was a ringing in Ruth's ears that drowned out everything else. Her heart stopped at those words, her worst fears realized. "Wh-why didn't you tell me?" she whispered. Her voice didn't seem to want to come out any louder.

"I'm telling you now. I got the diagnosis for certain about two weeks ago. And I didn't want to ruin your birthday. In fact, I made sure we didn't begin the treatment until after the party. I wanted to have a nice time with you on your special day."

Tears pricked her eyes. "Are you in pain?" she asked. Her voice shook now and the lump in her throat threatened to destroy her completely.

"The treatment is difficult. I'm weaker than I was. But it will help. This is not a death sentence, dear. I'm going to be sick but I've been assured that the condition is manageable for many years, even if I can't be cured."

"Years?"

"Yes, dear, years. My doctor is going to set up equipment here at the palace and there will be a team of nurses around the clock to monitor my condition, particularly as I adjust to the treatment. Other than the people in this house and the rest of the family, no one needs to know. I can carry on as before. Though you may have to take my place in certain royal functions, as I don't think I'll be able to do as much anymore."

"Of course," she promised. "Anything."

"I needed to tell you what was going on and now I have. So let's please go back to our nice lunch, alright?"

But Ruth had completely lost her appetite. Even if Dad wasn't going to be on his deathbed, cancer was a serious illness. The most serious illness. And he was weak and he was sick and the idea that he would be taken from her by this disease just as the accident had taken her mother was almost too much to bear.

She got up from her chair and crossed to where he sat and flung her arms around him and cried into to collar of his shirt. He rubbed her back and let her sit on his lap like when she was little, even though it must not have been very comfortable for him. And he soothed her just as he always did. "Shh, it's alright. Everything's going to be fine, Ruth. I promise, it's going to be alright. Shh, I love you, dear, please settle down."

As a child, Ruth had a tendency to get herself so upset and worked up that she would sob and hyperventilate and even cause herself to vomit if she wasn't careful. But Dad always knew how to calm her down. What was she going to do without him? How could she possibly survive in the world without knowing he was there, only a phone call away at any moment? She did not want to contemplate such a life.

Ruth kept crying, though eventually her tears subsided and she got her breathing under control. She rested her head on his shoulder as he continued to rub her back.

"I'm crushing you," she said hoarsely, knowing she needed to get up.

"No, you're fine. You just stay there for a little while. You might be old enough to rule the country now, but you're still my little girl."

Her tears began anew. She meant to tell him she loved him, but the words would not come. She just turned her head and cried into his shirt once more.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: M-rating**

_Chapter Nineteen_

Harry wasn't sure what was going on. Ruth had asked him to come over on Friday after work. Tom had opened the door for him, locked it, and disappeared into the shadows of his security office. That was quite odd. Harry was used to Marta, the housekeeper, being the one to open the door. And when he came over to Ruth's when they did not have plans to go out, the house usually smelled of something wonderful that Marta was making them for dinner. No such smells tonight.

"Ruth?" Harry called out.

"I'll be just a minute," she shouted back. She was upstairs, probably in her bedroom. "Have a seat on the sofa."

He did as he was told. And, for good measure, he went over to the bar cart and poured them each a drink before he took his seat on the sofa. He waited for Fidget to come join him, as the cat had been used to him before and would often wind around his ankles and hope up on his lap for a scratch behind the ears. But Fidget did not seem to be around. Perhaps he was upstairs with Ruth.

It was odd, sitting in her house, waiting for her like this. He thought it would be rude to turn on the television, so he just sat there with his drink. His eyes wandered the room. It was decorated very nicely. He wondered if Ruth did it herself or if some royal designer of sorts had been brought in to furnish her house. The pictures on the walls were rather generic, just pretty oil paintings of landscapes and artistic photographs of flowers in black and white. There were books almost everywhere. The shelves and tables and nooks and crannies of the room were all stuffed with books of all kinds. Many of them were in other languages; Harry knew she was fluent in about a dozen. Well, he actually did not know how many she was fluent in at all, but they'd yet to come across one in the course of their work that she could not translate into or out of with ease.

He smiled, taking another sip of his drink. She really was brilliant. Her mind was organized in a way that her life did not seem to be. She was always flustered and stuttering when her words were slower than her thoughts. She got herself worked up quite easily, too. But there was nothing she didn't know, nothing she could not find. She knew the answer to every question he asked, often before he asked it. He had never, in all his years, had a better right hand at work than Ruth. And, of course, that was probably one of the reasons he'd fallen in love with her. She was so lovely and so smart and so utterly unconcerned by artifice. She did her job immensely well. She carried out her royal duties with grace and honor. And the fact that she was so bloody good at everything did not give her an ounce of ego. She was even-tempered and good-humored. And now she got along with his children as well. Christ, he loved her more than he could possibly ever express. Being back with her now after their misstep was nothing short of heaven.

"Hello, Harry."

Ruth had finally come downstairs to join him. She walked toward him out of the shadowy foyer and into the light of the sitting room and Harry felt his jaw drop and his heart nearly stop.

She was wearing the burgundy dress.

Oh god, that dress had been the fuel for nearly every single one of his sexual fantasies for weeks, ever since she'd first worn it when they went out to the ballet. And really, she had no business wearing it out in public. The deep red satin covered her arms and shoulders and reached down to the floor, but it was cut so low in the front, it reached halfway to her navel, and the slit up the side exposed almost her entire leg. That creamy skin of hers that he was so in love with, it was a feast for the eyes, particularly when so much else of her was covered.

He stared at her in awe, the way the full skirt moved around her legs, the way the soft flesh of her thigh peeked through when she walked, the way her chest was turning slightly pink along with her cheeks as she blushed. The way he was looking at her was probably less than gentlemanly, but he was having significantly less than gentlemanly thoughts about her.

"You mentioned once, a while back, that you had some plans for the next time I wore this dress. I thought that might be a nice way to spend the evening," she said.

She sounded slightly nervous, so he ripped his eyes away from her cleavage to look at her face. Her hair was curled and falling in waves around her shoulders. She'd put makeup on around her eyes and her lipstick was the precise color of the dress. He'd never seen her wear lipstick that color before. It was almost a little strange to see on Ruth, but of course she looked beautiful. And she was nervously biting her bottom lip and rubbing that lipstick off in the process. Harry forced himself to swallow and reached a hand toward her. "Come here," he requested.

Ruth joined him willingly, choosing to splay the skirt out around him and climb onto his lap. Their drinks lay forgotten on the table. Her bare knees rested on either side of his hips and she draped her arms loosely over his shoulders. And now she was smiling.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Harry told her. "And I cannot believe you remembered what I said about this dress, that was very sweet, and I love you very much."

Her smile grew at that. "I love you, too. And I thought we might have a bit of fun."

"I always have fun with you, Ruth, but this is wonderful."

After that, Harry saw no more need to talk. He put a hand on her cheek gently and leaned in to kiss her. Oh that lipstick was going to get all over his face, but what did he care? Might be sort of fun. The rest of this certainly would be.

Their mouths and tongues explored each other in a happy, unhurried fashion. One of Harry's hands tangled in the soft curls of her hair while the other kneaded her breast over the dress. It wasn't long before he slipped it inside the dress and was amazed to find it bare beneath the satin. The thought flitted in his mind to ask what on earth he had ever done to deserve her.

Ruth, meanwhile, kissed him deeply and began rocking and grinding on his lap. Harry had not been prepared for such delights; he was still wearing his uniform from work, and those trousers were getting extremely tight.

As if reading his mind, Ruth reached down and unbuckled his belt. She fumbled and pulled away from his kiss so she could see what he was doing. Harry took the opportunity to let his hands find their way under that voluminous skirt, using the opening provided by that slit. Her legs were bare under his hands. He rubbed her thighs and kissed her neck while she undid his trousers and reached inside to free his erection. At her touch, he groaned against her skin. Ruth laughed lightly at his reaction.

Then, another surprise. Harry's hands moved higher up on her and found that she wasn't wearing any knickers. She grinned proudly as he gaped at her in shock. Ruth wasted no time settling herself on him so her wet folds slid up against his hard cock. He could hardly stand it, whimpering as she teased him.

With an impatient growl, Harry grabbed her by the bum and lifted her up and thrust himself inside. Ruth gasped at the suddenness of it, but after a moment's adjustment, she leaned in and began to move on top of him. Her head was thrown back as she rode him. His mouth trailed down to her chest, and he nipped at the exposed sides of her breasts. She gasped his name, riding him faster and harder. Harry's fingers dug into her hips hard enough to leave bruises, but it was all so much. The burgundy satin, Ruth riding him on the sofa, the sounds she made. He tried to hold back but couldn't. When he came, he called out her name. Ruth followed him over the edge just after and collapsed against him.

She twitched with her aftershocks as they both breathed heavily. Harry took his hands out from under the dress to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her close. "Christ, that was incredible," he whispered.

Ruth hummed happily in response. She turned her head and kissed the side of his neck. "Wonderful," she agreed.

They stayed there for a little while, wrapped up in each other, Harry going soft inside her, all the wetness from their coupling getting all over his trousers. He was uncomfortably sweaty inside his uniform. This would not be something he'd want to explain to Malcolm when he did the cleaning, but he didn't care right now. He just wanted to hold her as long as he could before they had to make a move.

And then the thought occurred to him. "Ruth," he began.

"Hmm?" she answered sleepily.

"Marry me."


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter Twenty_

Ruth scrambled off him. He caught a glimpse of her face and saw a horrified expression. Not what a man wants to see when he's just proposed marriage to the woman he loves.

"What did you just say?" she asked, her voice hoarse and cracking.

Harry's heart plummeted. He felt his blood turn to ice as all his hopes felt dashed. He made his appearance as respectable as he could, particularly given the vast change in the mood. "I…I asked if you'd marry me," he told her, as though repeating it might somehow make it better.

"No, Harry, you can't do that!" she cried.

"Why not?" he asked in return.

Her face was growing red from frustration and tears pooled in her eyes. "Harry, I…" She trailed off. "Christ, I can't think. Why would you do this now? Why would you…" A sob escaped the back of her throat.

"Ruth, please, can we talk about this?" Harry moved towards her on the sofa, hoping to comfort her or at least figure out what the hell had been so supremely awful about asking her to marry him.

But she recoiled from his touch. She stood up from the sofa. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Her arms were hanging tensely at her sides with her fists balled. "You cannot ask me to marry you less than two weeks after we've gotten back together without any thought or preparation or anything, and it is unfair of you to hurt us both like that." As rattled off her words, she kept her eyes shut tight. With a huff, she opened her eyes and said, "And now I think you should leave."

She did not wait for his response before turning on her heel and running up the stairs.

Harry did not appreciate that response one bit. And he would not let her close this conversation. Not just yet. In fact, they'd not even had a proper conversation! He'd been a bit impulsive in asking her, yes, but that did not mean she could just throw him out.

Though he was still mildly stunned by the course of events for the evening, Harry stood up from the sofa and followed her up the stairs to her bedroom. He found the door closed, and he would not insult her further by ignoring that barrier. "Ruth, I'm not leaving till we settle this," he called through the door.

"Please just go!" she shouted back.

He could hear in her voice that she was crying, and he did not like that one bit. "I will not go. Not like this. Now, may I come in, please?"

There was a pregnant pause of silence left in the air as he waited. Finally, he heard a slightly muffled response. "The door's not locked."

Taking that as an invitation, Harry opened the door slowly. Inside, he found that marvelous burgundy dress in a heap on the floor and Ruth curled up in the middle of her bed wearing her dressing gown. He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. "Can we talk, please?" he asked softly. "We were having a wonderful time and I know I ruined it, but I'd like to try and fix it, if we can."

"You can't take back what you said," she answered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek that was rolling down the side of her nose, the way her head was resting.

Harry gently brushed her hair back. "I don't want to take it back. I may not have had the best timing…"

"Terrible timing," she interjected.

"But I won't take it back," he finished.

Ruth sat up, moving somewhat clumsily as she tried to keep her robe closed. "Why not? You can't possibly want to marry me."

"Of course I do. I love you and I want to be with you," Harry said. And really, that shouldn't have been a surprise. What else did she think they were doing together? Why did she think he'd introduced her to his children? He'd not really realized before tonight that he did want to marry her, but that didn't mean it wasn't an earnest feeling. He'd have reached the conclusion sooner or later. It just happened to have been sooner.

She shook her head in disbelief. "You're not thinking, Harry," she said. "I know we had a very nice time on the sofa and of course the sex is always very good, but you're not thinking!"

"So that's you saying no, is it?" he grumbled. His was starting to feel just as he had when she'd broken up with him. She was giving him excuses instead of telling him the truth. And the excusess on his behalf were starting to hurt more than if she just told him she didn't want to marry him.

Ruth put her hand on his arm. "You never should have asked me, Harry. You and I…it's not just about the two of us."

"Yes it is," he protested.

"No it isn't!" she insisted. "Have you talked to Graham and Catherine? I know they don't dislike me, but I can't imagine they're ready for me to be their new mother. And have you asked permission to marry me? You know that all members of the royal family must receive the consent of the crown to marry. And I'm sure you haven't even thought about that! Harry, I am a bloody princess, and I know you don't think much of that and we don't worry about it between us, but it doesn't mean I don't have responsibilities and limitations in my life, and whoever marries me will be tied to that forever. As much as I try bloody hard to just be Ruth and to work hard and to be normal, the fact remains that I am not normal, and my life is not my own. There is so much more than you could ever imagine, and it's not fair for you to pretend like you and I are the only ones who matter!"

Harry was not sure he'd ever heard Ruth be so eloquent in the two years he'd known her. She did not trip over her words, she did not stammer or falter or go back and forth between different points she was trying to make. And though she was obviously upset still, she seemed so calm. For the first time, he saw that regal elegance that lived inside her. Princess Louisa was speaking to him for the first time. But it was Ruth he'd asked to marry him. Maybe that was the problem.

Another tear escaped down her cheek and she wiped it away. Harry looked down at his hands in his lap. She spoke softly to him, "I do love you, Harry. More than anything. But I don't want you to ask me to marry you without understanding what that means. I don't want to say yes and have us both be trapped in that decision."

"So you're saying no."

"I'm saying no," she confirmed. "And if that's all there is, maybe that's for the best. But if you ever do ask me again, after you've made sure you really want to ask me, I don't want to say no."

He looked up sharply, seeing her pale blue eyes rimmed with red from her crying, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to hold back her emotions. One of her hands was still on his arm but the other was fidgeting the tie on her robe. It was Ruth again, nervously admitting that she did not want to reject him, that she did, in so many words, want to marry him if all was done properly. Princess Louisa had to be satisfied for Ruth to be able to say yes. And in a strange way, he could not begrudge her that. Harry took both her hands in his and shifted to face her straight on. "I love you," he said quietly, for those were the only words that he could manage to find inside his head in that moment. "And I'm sorry."

Ruth tried to hold back a sob and just nodded. Harry pulled her into his arms and held her tight. They didn't say anything else, for what else was thereto say? He knew he was lucky that he had not ruined things between them completely, knew he was lucky that she would let him hold her like this still. And that was all he wanted to do. Just hold her tight and love her as best he could.


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter Twenty-One_

Harry poured himself a glass of scotch and took a sip before pressing the call button on the desk in his study. He really did hate using it, since it wasn't just some servant he was calling to fetch things for him; it was Malcolm who was only a servant in the most technical sense. Though Malcolm was always telling him to stop shouting all over the house.

"Thank you for not bellowing at me," Malcolm said upon entering the study. "What do you need?"

"Can you have the children come join me in here, please?" Harry requested. He did not bother responding to the comment about him bellowing.

"Of course," Malcolm replied. He did not ask any further questions, for which Harry was appreciative.

Harry sat down on the sofa with his drink and quietly begged his heart to stop pounding. He had nervous butterflies in his stomach. To talk to his own children! Absolutely ridiculous.

A moment later, Graham came bounding in. "Hi, Dad!"

"Hello," Harry greeted. "Come have a seat."

Graham's face was beaming. Harry knew it was rare for him to invite him into the study. They spent most of their time as a family at the dining table or in the living room. The study was Harry's space alone. And that was partly why he wanted to do this in here.

Catherine entered the room looking much less excited than her brother. "What are we doing here?" she demanded immediately. Already with a sour expression.

"I'd like to talk to both of you. And I thought it might be a nice change of pace to do it in here," he explained.

"Can I have some of your scotch?" Catherine asked.

"No, you may not," Harry snapped.

"Why?"

"Because you're fourteen."

"So?"

"The legal drinking age is eighteen."

"Since when have you cared about things like that?"

Harry had to admit she had a point. "You can try a sip later," he conceded. "And if you want, you may have one glass of wine at dinner on weekends and that's all."

"Me too?" Graham asked hopefully.

"No," Harry sternly replied. "You can when you turn fourteen. And anyway, that's not what I wanted you to talk about. I wanted to talk about Ruth."

"Is Ruth okay?"

"Oh what did you do now!?"

Harry almost laughed at his children's simultaneous questions being so of their natures. Graham being full of concern for someone he admired and Catherine being so quick to think it was Harry's fault. "Ruth is fine and I didn't do anything," he told them. The latter half of that response wasn't entirely accurate, but he certainly wasn't going to tell his children—or anyone at all—that he'd been so well-shagged that he'd proposed marriage while still inside her. Harry sighed and forced himself to address the issue at hand. "I want to ask her to marry me, and I want to know what you think about that."

Graham gasped with joy. "Really!? Does that mean she'll be our new mum and be with us all the time?"

"Assuming she says yes," Harry said, tempering the excitement. And he loved that Graham was such an enthusiastic boy. Most children that age were 'too cool' to be excited about much of anything. Not Graham. He wore his heart on his sleeve, for better or worse.

"Hang on," Catherine interjected. "What's going to happen if you marry her? Is she going to live here with us?"

"I assume so, yes." He'd not thought about that. But surely she wouldn't imagine he and the children would move into her townhouse. They could get a new place for them, but this house was the only home Catherine and Graham had ever known. Harry couldn't imagine that Ruth would want to take them away from it. Unless there was some rule about the princess not being able to live in Harry's house. Christ, that was a whole other issue. An issue they all needed to consider. "But remember that Ruth is a princess so she's got responsibilities and such. And if she marries me, some of that might be our responsibility, too."

Catherine frowned at that. "How do you mean? What would we have to do?"

"I don't really know actually. Probably attend state dinners and parties at the palace. Ruth probably would do more of it, but I'd imagine we'd be expected to be there."

"That sounds really fun," Graham ventured.

"Would that make me a princess?" Catherine asked.

"No, I don't think so," Harry answered. "I assume because you're not Ruth's children, you wouldn't be made royalty."

Catherine did not seem bothered one way or the other about that. "But she'd be our new mum if you married her?"

"Stepmother, yes. I don't think either of us anticipate that she'd need to do much mothering. You two had a wonderful mother, and neither Ruth nor I want to replace her."

"So why would you marry her?"

Her question was not spoken with vitriol, but Harry was bothered by it all the same. "Because I love her," he defended. "And I want her to be my wife."

"Dad, does she want to be our stepmother?" Graham asked. "I really like Ruth and I think it would be fun to have her around more, but what if she wants to marry you but not be our stepmother? Would…would you send us away again?"

Harry's heart broke to hear his son's frightened tone. "No, never. Even if Ruth didn't want to be your stepmother and wanted to send you away, I wouldn't let her. I only ever sent you away before because I was stationed overseas and I could have you be here alone," Harry told them.

"You could have left us with Malcolm," Catherine pointed out. "You do that now."

He shook his head. "Not for months at a time. And that's not fair for Malcolm either. He's your godfather, but I am your father, and you are my responsibility."

"Since when?" Catherine scoffed.

"Since the moment you were born!" Harry fired back. "Look, I know I've been a terrible father for most of your lives, but I am trying to do better. And whatever happens with me and Ruth in the future, you're both a part of it."

He heard Ruth's words ringing in his ears, the way she'd reminded him that their relationship was not, unfortunately, just for the two of them alone. There was her family to consider and his. And if he'd bothered to think through anything beyond his overwhelming love for her in that moment, he'd not have proposed to her without discussing it with the children first. Well, he was now. He'd do things properly now.

Harry softened and asked, "Catherine, now that I've answered all your questions, will you tell me what you think?"

She looked at him with those big brown eyes of hers. Her mother's eyes. Beautiful and curious and intelligent. "You've been better since you've been with Ruth," she began carefully. "And I know it's because you love her and she makes you happy. And I really like her, too. And if she wants to live with us and be our stepmother, I think that would be really nice."

There was a hesitation there that Harry did not quite trust. "But?"

Catherine shrugged. "Like Graham said. I just don't want you to send us away again. Or leave us here while you're off doing whatever else. If you're going to be our dad and she's going to be our stepmother, you should actually be here for it."

Harry nodded. He did not want to make promises he did not know if he could keep just yet, so he did not try. He turned to his son. "Graham, what do you think?"

"I love Ruth," Graham said without an ounce of his sister's measured hesitation. "I want her to marry you and come live with us and be here. And it might be fun to go to parties at the palace!"

"Yes, it might," Harry chuckled, humoring the boy. Personally, he did not think it would be fun to go to parties at the palace. Lots of stuffy people wearing formal dress. But if he got to spend the evening with Ruth and even the children, it might be made more enjoyable. They'd just have to see. All of this was putting the cart before the horse somewhat.

"So when are you going to propose?" Graham asked eagerly.

"I don't know. I have to ask permission from the king. And I only met the king when I was knighted all those years ago, so I'm not quite sure how I'll manage to get to have an audience to ask him for consent to marry his granddaughter. But we'll figure something out."

Catherine's brow furrowed slightly. "Does Ruth know you want to marry her?"

Harry needed to tread carefully here. "Yes," he said simply.

"So she wants to marry you?"

Again, Harry needed to be cautious. "She told me she does not want to say no when I propose to her. But I need to be sure that everything's alright with you two first and then get permission from her family before I can propose properly."

That seemed to satisfy Catherine. A hint of a smile appeared on her lips. "Have you picked out a ring yet?"

"No, why?" he asked warily.

"Can I help you pick it out?"

More than anything else, Harry took that as a sign of encouragement from his daughter. Encouragement and blessing, even. Harry hadn't thought at all about a ring for Ruth, and that would take quite a lot of thought indeed. After all, what could he possibly offer to the princess that she didn't already have? Ruth wasn't really one for finery like that, probably because she had too much of it thrust upon her. Harry would need to find something beautiful and worthy of the princess but elegant and meaningful enough to honor Ruth herself. And Catherine did have an eye for artistic things. She'd probably be a great help.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Catherine?"

"Can I try your scotch now?"

He laughed, "Yes, alright. But I don't think you're gonna like it."

"I'm tougher than I look," she grumbled.

Harry did not doubt that, but single malt scotch was certainly an acquired taste. He passed her his glass. Graham watched on with a great deal of interest. Catherine sniffed it and jerked back almost instantly. Even Harry did not spend a lot of time sniffing ninety-proof alcohol. But Catherine was not one to back down from much of anything. Stubborn like her father, that one. Cautiously, she lifted the glass to her lips and sipped the amber liquid. And immediately, she started coughing. Harry took the glass away from her so it wouldn't spill. Her eyes were watering and she was gasping for breath.

"Graham, go get some water for her," Harry instructed. He put the glass on the table and scooted over to her, rubbing her back soothingly. "I did warn you," he said softly.

"How can you drink that!?" she asked with a hoarse voice.

"Years of practice," he chuckled.

"You're insane."

"I've been called worse."

Catherine looked at him and started to laugh. Harry gave her his handkerchief to wipe her eyes. She leaned against him as she did, and Harry took the opportunity to hold her.

Graham came back a moment later and gave Catherine her water. He sat down on Harry's other side, and both children rested themselves in his arms.

"Dad, I'm really excited for Ruth to be our stepmother," Graham said softly.

"Me too," Harry replied. And he smiled.


	22. Chapter 22

_Chapter Twenty-Two_

Tom pulled the car up to the front entrance of Leister Palace and Ruth suddenly realized that she'd not been here this often since she had called it home. And it was home, of course, and always would be. But she had a house of her own and before that she'd had her own (rather extravagant) flat to live in while in at university. Now that Dad was sick, however, she'd started coming much more often. Luckily Harry did not think anything of her saying she needed to go to lunch at the palace every Sunday. He did not know how relatively infrequently she'd gone to visit before then.

It wasn't that she was keeping things from Harry. Well, she was, but it wasn't for any secretive purpose. She would tell him eventually. She just didn't want to burden him with her family troubles just yet. Because in telling him that her father was ill, she would also have to tell him that she would be taking on even more royal duties to cover for him. And on a personal level, Harry would surely understand and support her, even if it might mean that she'd have less free time to spend with him. But Harry was also her superior at work. Ruth was already given significant leeway in the amount of time she took off from work in order to do the relatively few appearances that were required of her.

Not to mention, of course, that she and Harry were just so very happy. Other than his rather ill-timed and somewhat disastrous proposal, they'd been doing very well. And Ruth did hope that she might be able to marry him. She just…did not know if she would be allowed. That was the real reason for her rejection. Of course she wanted him to think it through and discuss it with Catherine and Graham, but the permission from the crown could come after she'd said yes so long as Ruth made it clear to Grandfather that Harry was the man she wanted. The only thing was that Harry was not nobility. Harry was knighted and a decorated officer, but he was not even a Baron, and Ruth genuinely did not know if she, in her position, was permitted to marry someone without a title.

Hopefully today she could get something of an answer. She wanted to ask Dad, and if he did not know, the library in the palace had all the books she'd need to find the answer for herself. Really, she could just do the research and be done, but she wanted to discuss it with him. He was sick and she wanted to spend time with him and get his counsel as often as she could. She wanted to tell him that she loved Harry and she wanted to marry him and hopefully they could find a way for it to be so.

Today, unlike most Sundays when she came by, he was in treatment. There was a strict number of days between the administering of the drugs, so sometimes they fell on a weekend. Luckily the treatment itself was not so bad; his worst days were right after, when his body was made weak and had to struggle to make good effect of the cancer-fighting chemicals.

Ruth was greeted by one of the servants and led up to one of the many unused bedrooms that had been converted to the treatment center. The team of doctors and nurses were there, monitoring machines and reading test results and such. It was so odd to see all of the medical equipment in a room with gilded crown moulding and ceiling frescos.

A chair was provided for her to come sit beside her father. He had a needle and tube inserted into his arm through which a bag of liquid drugs dripped into his bloodstream. Other than that, he looked as though he was just sitting in a chair with a book.

"What are you reading?" she asked after kissing his cheek hello.

"Voltaire," he replied, showing her the cover of the very old printing of Candide from their library.

Ruth smiled. "That's a nice distraction, I'd imagine."

"Yes, it does divert the mind when I'm not joined by such lovely company. How are you, dear?"

"I'm very well. And I am hoping I'll still be well after our discussion."

"Oh?" Dad sat up in his chair and put the book on the side table, turning his full attention to her.

Ruth's hands fidgeted nervously in her lap and she chewed on her lips as she tried to think of how to broach the subject. "Mum was a Countess before you married her, right?"

"Yes, that's right," he answered, surely wondering where this was going.

She tried to recall the titles of the other women in the family prior to becoming princesses. "Grandfather married a duchess and Uncle Edmund married a marchioness?"

"I think so. Why are you asking?"

Her heart was pounding in her chest and she had absolutely no reason to be nervous and yet here she was. She knew, however, that she was absolutely terrified that the answer to her question would break her heart. "Is a non-noble allowed to marry anyone in the family?"

Dad's face broke into a very pleased grin. "Are you asking because a non-noble wants to marry you?"

"Yes," she confessed in a quiet mumble.

"Ruth, did Harry ask you to marry him?"

She nodded. "But I said no. Because I didn't want to say yes and then find out he wasn't allowed to marry me. I don't know that anyone in the family has ever married someone without a title." Ruth had no intention of providing any more information about the context of Harry's proposal. Her father did not need to know that much about her private life, nor did anyone else.

Dad considered her words thoughtfully. "You know, I'm really not sure if it's ever been done. That's not to say that it isn't allowed. Just that it hasn't been done. You might want to check the library for that peerage constitutionality book."

"Yes, that's what I was planning on if you didn't know."

"Well, I don't know, so why don't you go get the book and then come back and we can figure it out together?"

And so Ruth did exactly that. She knew that library better than she knew any place in all the world. She knew exactly how it was organized and where to find whatever it was that she needed. The reference books and the history books were along two walls and the works of literature were on the third. The reference books were arranged by subject, so she quickly got her bearings, located the rolling ladder, and climbed up about three feet to reach the book she needed. She was back in the treatment room with her father in about three minutes.

"That was quick," he noted.

She smiled proudly. "Yes, well that's my library."

Dad chuckled merrily, probably remembering the hours and hours and hours Ruth had spent in that room as a child. It certainly was her library. "I've only got one useful hand at the moment, so why don't you find the chapter we need?"

Ruth skimmed the table of contents and noted aloud the titles that sounded relevant. They first looked at the Royal Marriage Act, but that was only the rules regarding who needed the monarch's consent to marry. Ruth knew that much already.

It was annoying, actually, that she knew so little of the laws that governed her family and only her family. But being the daughter of the younger son of the king and thus third in line for the throng—assuming that Uncle Edmond never had children, which was a supremely unlikely event—she had not been tutored with a royal education. She had gone to school with the other children her age. That had been what her parents wanted. Her own father had gone to university, something that his elder brother who was to be the next king had not been able to do. It was Uncle Edmond who had been given the royal tutoring that would prepare him for the role he was destined to fill. And actually, he would be the one who would know right away what the answer to Ruth's question was.

After another two wrong chapters—one on titling for the spouses of various nobility and one on the line of succession—they found what they needed. Ruth read aloud, "The reigning monarch is not permitted to marry outside nobility, nor is his direct successor. Other members of the royal family are free to marry whomever they choose, provided that those who require the consent of the monarch receive such consent prior to a formal engagement. In 1813, Prince Richard, third son of King George II and younger brother of the eventual King James IV, married the daughter of the trainer of his favorite horse."

"There you have it!" Dad cried triumphantly. "Edmund wouldn't be allowed to marry a commoner, but I could and so can you. You'll need your grandfather's permission, but we all know that you love this man, Ruth. We'd love to meet him and get to know him, but there's nothing stopping you from marrying him."

Ruth was so relieved, she could hardly speak. She almost wanted to ask if Harry's divorce might be a hindrance, but surely with his former wife no longer living, no one would mind. But this was better than she could have ever hoped. If—and hopefully _when_—Harry asked her to marry him again, she there would be no impediment to her saying yes.


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter Twenty-Three_

For a Thursday, this was a very exciting day. Ruth had kept her excitement to herself all day at work. She had put her head down and done her work and focused as much as she could on her translations and research reports. At work, she wanted to make the day as ordinary as possible. Because that would make the evening all the more exciting.

She left right on time, flashing a smile to Harry through his office window. He gave her a knowing nod in return, his eyes sparkling happily. And with that, she had Tom rush her back to her house so she could get ready.

Tonight thankfully did not require the team of people to do her hair and makeup for a state dinner or royal event. But when Ruth had to do things herself, it did take a bit more effort. But she would just be going to Harry's house and spending the evening with the children and Malcolm, so it wasn't as though she needed a ballgown. No, tonight she would wear a simple navy blue dress, showing off just a bit of leg for Harry, and she would pull her hair back away from her face and she would do some very simple makeup just to mark the special occasion. And after all that, she gathered everything else she would need in a holdall and hurried back down the stairs.

"Harry doesn't know I'm spending the night yet," Ruth told Tom. She'd warned her bodyguard of her plan a week ago so that he would be able to make the necessary preparations. "Let me go in and talk to him and then I'm sure he'll have Malcolm arrange things with you."

"Yes, Miss Ruth," Tom replied stoically. Oh he was seething mad, Ruth knew, but there wasn't much he could do about it. She was free to make her own choices and it was his job to ensure her safety without hindering her life. And she did usually make it very easy for him. It wasn't as though she was going out to parties or traveling all around or staying out till the wee hours of morning. Ruth lived a very regular and boring sort of life outside of royal duties and Harry. And tonight was for Harry, and Tom would just have to figure it out.

When the car parked in front of the house, Ruth hurried up the drive, eager to begin the festivities. Before she reached the front door, it opened and Graham bounded out to give her a hug.

"Hi, Ruth!" he greeted excitedly.

She hugged him back happily. "Hello, Graham. How are things going?"

"Good," he told her, pulling back and leading her back into the house. "Catherine and I are helping Malcolm with the cooking. She's chopping veg now."

"And where's your dad?"

Graham smiled. "Waiting for you."

Ruth's heart fluttered a bit at that. Oh Harry did love her, and his children certainly knew it and sometimes she could not quite believe it herself.

As they went inside, Harry himself was indeed waiting in the foyer. "Your sister is whining about you abandoning her," he told his son. Graham ran off back to the kitchen. Harry then turned his attention to Ruth, smiling gently. "Hello," he said simply, leaning in to give her a soft kiss.

She smiled and hummed against his lips. "Happy birthday, Harry."

"Thank you. I'm glad you're here to celebrate with us." He noticed the holdall in her hand. "What's that for?"

"One of your presents," she explained. "I've got one for you to open with everyone and then I thought, if you'd like, I could spend the night." Her cheeks went warm as she blushed. Though after the things she and Harry had done already, there was no reason for a blush. Still, there it was anyway.

But Harry reacted just as she'd hoped he would. His whole face lit up. "Does that mean I can unwrap you later tonight?"

She laughed, "Yes, if you like. It's your birthday, after all. Quite a big one, in fact."

He shook his head. "I'd rather not focus on the fact that I am now forty years old and far too old to be sniffing around your skirts."

That phrasing made her scoff. "Sniffing around my skirts?"

"You know what I mean. You're young and lovely, and now I'm officially middle-aged."

"Oh hush," she said, putting a comforting hand on his chest. "I love you just as you are, and we are going to have fun on your birthday, no matter what your age is. Besides, I quite like it when you're up my skirt."

That earned a barking laugh from Harry as he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her upstairs to put her things away. She told him that someone would need to talk to Tom, and, as she'd predicted, Harry said that Malcolm could take care of it.

While dinner was in the oven and after Tom had been dealt with to his satisfaction, Ruth gathered in the sitting room with Harry and Graham and Catherine and Malcolm. It was wonderful to be welcomed into this little family. Ruth had never experienced anything like this before. When she was a little girl, when her mother was alive, the three of them would have quiet evenings at home like this. And after they'd lost Mum, it had just been Ruth and Dad. The times she'd spent with her grandparents had been lovely, but again, the quiet times were just the three of them. It was so rare that she got to spend any time at all with her whole family outside of an official event. The idea of sitting on the sofa and opening birthday presents and having dinner all together was so very far from her own experiences. And Ruth loved it. She loved getting to be part of this with Harry and his children and his best friend. She felt that she fit here, somehow. Like she belonged. And that was certainly saying a lot. Ruth never really felt like she belonged anywhere. Being royal kept her apart from much of the real world, but she never felt at home in the royal world either.

Harry must have noticed that she was looking a bit pensive. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Alright?"

Ruth gave his hand a squeeze. "Perfect," she told him.

He smiled at that and kissed her cheek. Ruth saw that Catherine was watching, and that made her blush again. But thankfully Catherine seemed approving of her father's little gesture.

Harry opened all his presents and thanked everyone. Graham and Catherine had pooled their resources to get him a beautiful silk tie with blue and purple stripes. Malcolm gave Harry a bottle of his favorite scotch. Apparently that was a tradition between them, getting each other their favorite bottle for birthdays and Christmas and then drinking them together throughout the year. Ruth's gift to Harry was a first edition book on early military history, though she got the impression that he'd enjoy the gift of her spending the night much more. Really, they both would. Particularly because Harry's master suite was all the way across the house from the children's rooms.

Dinner was a lovely affair. The five of them all sat around the table, not unlike the first dinner Ruth had spent with them, and they all talked and laughed happily together. She delighted in getting to know the children better. Graham told them all about a project he was doing for school that he was quite interested in. Ruth had been struck at first by the boy's enthusiasm, but the more time she got to spend with him, the more she saw that he was absolutely brilliant. He had that enthusiasm for everything, it seemed, but particularly for learning. Harry had said Graham got top marks in everything from literature and history to maths and science. Catherine, meanwhile, was plenty clever as well, but was much more drawn to creative pursuits. Apparently her interest in film was starting to extend to wanting to make films herself. And even though it was Harry's birthday, she was still trying to ask him to get her a camera. They were terribly expensive and complicated, but it was not an entirely unreasonable request. Ruth made a mental note to talk to Harry about it later, to see if it would be too inappropriate for Ruth to get Catherine a camera.

"Graham, Catherine, time to clean up," Malcolm announced.

"Can we say bye to Ruth first?" Graham asked, hesitating before getting up to clear the dishes from dinner.

"Ruth's not leaving," Harry informed him. To Ruth's mind, he was far too smug about it.

"She's not?" Catherine asked curiously.

"No, she's staying the night," Harry explained.

Graham was very pleased at that, it seemed. Catherine gave a little smile. "The pipes rattle sometimes. They might wake you up," she said.

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you," Ruth replied.

And that's all there was to it. Graham and Catherine both seemed to have no problem whatsoever with Ruth staying the night with their father. Ruth wondered if perhaps Harry had discussed the idea of proposing with them. This might be something of a trial run for that. So far it seemed to be going well. And Ruth was once more welcomed further into the family.


	24. Chapter 24

_Chapter Twenty-Four_

Ruth sat patiently while the team of makeup and hair professionals primped her to full royal glamour. A tedious process more than anything. And after sitting for an hour with all of that, the team joined with the wardrobe manager to help her into her gown for the evening. It would of course have been easier to put the dress on before her face was slathered with makeup and her hair was coifed into an intricate design she wasn't allowed to touch, but sitting for so long would have made the dress wrinkle. Heaven forbid.

But this was all well-practiced for Ruth. She knew better than to complain or protest or make any sort of fuss. She had no choice in the matter. She was expected to look a certain way at these events, and failing to live up to that expectation would let down the royal family. Even if Ruth wasn't an important royal, she was the king's granddaughter and had to look the part.

At last, when her hair and face were sprayed to set and her shoes and jewelry had been placed on her to match the gown, Ruth was allowed to descend the stairs of her townhouse. And unlike every time she'd ever gotten ready for a state dinner before, she had an escort there waiting.

Harry was pacing back and forth in his tuxedo, probably bored and annoyed from having to wait for her. But he paused when Ruth descended. He smiled at her as he admired her appearance. Tonight she was wearing a floor-length gown of silk. The skirt was a powder blue, which was not a color Ruth usually wore, and the bodice was a lace and crystal-beaded masterpiece. "You really are a princess if I've ever seen one," he praised.

"There's a whole team of people up there who made this happen. Sorry to spoil the magic. Though you know what I look like first thing in the morning, so I can't imagine I'm going to break the spell when I turn into a pumpkin again," she replied.

He chuckled at that and took her hand to pull her towards him. He whispered, "If having you naked and well-shagged makes you a pumpkin, I think you know I much prefer that." He kissed her blushing cheek.

"Yes, so do I," she agreed. "But you're not allowed to ruin the hair and makeup until after the photographers see me," Ruth warned.

"I shall follow your lead, Princess."

Ruth elbowed him in the chest for that remark, making them both laugh. Harry escorted her out to where Tom was waiting with the car.

As they drove through town to the palace, Ruth reminded Harry of what would be happening tonight. "Uncle Edmund and his wife are on the Royal Tour in the southeast, so they won't be there, thank god. So it's just Grandfather and Dad tonight."

"Or King Richard V and Prince James of Leister as they'd be known to anyone but you," Harry teased.

"Yes, about that, just remember that the king is referred to as 'Your Majesty' and his children are 'Your Royal Highness.' I'm just 'Your Highness,'" she explained. "I know no one will make you keep that up anywhere else, but this is a state dinner and it's important we have proper manners when there are others around. We have to set a good example."

Harry took her fidgeting hands in his. "Ruth, please stop worrying. I know that's like telling the earth to stop orbiting the sun, but I mean it. I won't do anything to embarrass you tonight. I'll be on my very best behavior. I promise I'll remember all the rules."

Having him hold her hands like that did make her feel better, but he'd gotten entirely the wrong idea about everything. "I'm not worried about you embarrassing me, Harry. I don't care at all about that, and I don't think you'd ever do anything like that anyway."

"Then what's got you so nervous?"

"I just want everyone to like you. Not just my family but all the nobles and the press and such."

"Why on earth should that matter?" he scoffed.

Ruth paused, trying to choose her words very carefully. "I want you to be well-liked and well-regarded so that there won't be any…unpleasantness. For you or for your children."

"Oh?"

Damn him, he was going to make her spell it out. "If the press and nobles are on your side, it will be a lot nicer for everyone when…if…we get married."

His eyes went wide, but he seemed to process all of that quite quickly. "I suppose it would be best if my children did not have to read newspaper headlines framing me as a villain off to steal the beloved princess."

"Exactly."

He kissed the tips of her fingers, still held securely in his hands. "I'll play nice, Ruth. I'll be on my best behavior."

She smiled. "Just be friendly and polite and for god's sake, don't ever leave me alone."

"No, darling, I'll never leave you."

That tone of his voice was soft and full of importance, and Ruth knew he wasn't just talking about the state dinner that evening.

When they arrived at the palace, a line of press was waiting as Tom opened the door for Harry, who waved with a plastered-on smile and helped Ruth out of the car. She too smiled and waved like she was supposed to. She took Harry's arm and held the pale blue skirt of her gown so she wouldn't trip and fall flat on her face. She hadn't actually done that since she was about eleven, but she was still a rather clumsy person and the regal grace that was befitting of her station was not something that came easily to her at all. Thankfully Harry was with her tonight, ready to keep her from stumbling.

Inside the grand foyer was the royal receiving line. The steward announced the arrival of Princess Louisa of Leister and Sir Harry Pearce. Ruth briefly wondered which he preferred, Sir Harry—using his first name—or Major Pearce—denoting his army rank. She'd have to ask him later.

But then it was time for the greetings. Dad was first. He was looking well tonight. He had a treatment coming up the following day, so this was his last bit of strength for a while, she knew. He embraced her warmly and kissed her cheek.

"And this must be your Major Pearce," Dad greeted, extending his hand to Harry.

Harry shook his hand and bowed his head. "Yes, Your Royal Highness. It is an honor to finally meet you, sir. The princess speaks so highly of you," Harry responded politely. Oh she was so proud!

Dad smiled. "I can see she had you trained up for it," he said quietly. "When we aren't in the circus, it'll be a lot easier for us to get to know each other."

"I look forward to the opportunity, Your Royal Highness."

Ruth watched as Dad nodded approvingly. And they moved on to the king. He, as her father had, hugged and kissed her as was usual between them. "Your Majesty, may I present Sir Harry Pearce," Ruth introduced.

Harry bowed to the king. "It is an honor, Your Majesty."

Grandfather looked quite pleased at Harry's performance. "Thank you, Sir Harry. And in case there was any confusion, this will be one of the only times you'll have to bow to me. My granddaughter has likely told you that we only observe the formalities when there are witnesses."

As Harry straightened up, he spoke in the same low, conspiratorial tone that Dad had a moment earlier. "Well, since there are witnesses, we may as well put on a show."

The king laughed at that, pleasing Ruth to no end. She knew that they'd like Harry. He was a very likable man when he wasn't being stubborn and grumpy. And both Dad and Grandfather knew that she adored Harry beyond words. For her, they'd make an effort. But thankfully, it didn't look as though an effort was needed.

A steward then hurried them along into the dining room, announcing that dinner would be served shortly. Ruth was horrified to see, however, that her place setting was across the table from Harry, rather than beside him. In any other situation, sitting across from one's escort would be perfectly acceptable. But the banquet table in the palace for these state dinners was so large that one would have to shout to speak to the person sitting across the way. And a state dinner was not a shouting sort of setting. Ruth was sure that if she and Harry stretched out their legs under the table, their feet would not even touch. So much for him not leaving her for the evening.

As they all took their seats, however, and the king began his speech welcoming the visiting Prime Minister of Hathara, the arrangements were made clear. Harry was seated across from Ruth but next to her father. Obviously Dad had pulled some strings to ensure that he'd get the opportunity to spend some time with Harry. Ruth was sure they'd like each other, but she hated being isolated like this. She had petty nobles sitting on either side of her, one a countess and one a baron. Both of them had known her most of her life, but she did not particularly like them at all. And it meant that she'd have to carry on polite, inane conversation all evening. Ruth was not very good at small talk. It made her feel awkward. Well, most things made her feel awkward. And no amount of beautiful makeup or perfect hair or crystal-covered gowns could seem to change that.

As everyone toasted to Hathara, Ruth looked past the flower arrangements in the middle of the table to catch Harry's eye. He subtly blew a kiss at her before sipping his champagne and turning back to her father for conversation. Perhaps this evening would turn out alright after all.


	25. Chapter 25

_Chapter Twenty-Five_

Harry thought he'd be nervous. After all, it was a very nerve-wracking thing, having a private audience with the king. And not only that, Harry had requested this private audience to ask the king permission to marry his granddaughter.

But Harry also knew that the king was just like any other politician he had the misfortune of working with in his role as head of Foreign Intelligence. And he'd met the king before and knew quite well that he adored Ruth and seemingly already approved of Harry. Ruth had told him that her grandfather had encouraged her to accept Harry's very first invitation for dinner. Surely that was a good sign. And so because he could view this as just another meeting with someone in government and the permission he needed was hopefully guaranteed, Harry felt no nerves whatsoever as he travelled to the palace that day.

He'd left work early, being sure to have his uniform in perfect order before setting out. Wearing it was a comfort in things like this. Ruth looked at him curiously when he left, but he didn't say anything to her. She knew his calendar and he had merely blocked the time out for a private appointment. And he had not made plans with her that evening. He wanted to be able to have some time to himself to make arrangements after speaking with her grandfather. Assuming he did give Harry the permission he sought, Harry would need to plan a proper proposal. The first attempt had not been received well at all. And he had also promised Catherine that she could help pick out the ring.

"Sir Harry Pearce to see the king," he told the guard outside the palace gates. "I have an appointment." It felt a stupid thing to say, but Harry knew he had to go through the motions.

He was waved in by fancily dressed guards. One of them took his car in the most outrageously overly formal valet service he'd ever experienced. Another then led him inside the beautiful grand palace and up the stairs. Harry realized quite suddenly that he was being led not to the ballroom where they'd had the state dinner two weeks earlier, thank goodness, but horrifyingly to the throne room where Harry had been knighted many years before. He'd not expected such pomp and circumstance. But perhaps that was the point. Harry got the feeling that a show was being put on for him. Its effect was likely not the one that was intended. He did not feel nervous or intimidated, but rather mildly exhausted at the pointless pageantry of it all. But if this was what it took to prove himself worthy of marrying the princess, he'd make a good showing.

Harry was made to wait outside the ornate gilded doors. He assumed there was some kind of alerting system that would signal when the king was ready for him. And sure enough, a single chime, almost like from a clock, sounded by the door and Harry was ushered inside.

The throne room looked much as he remembered from when he'd received his knighthood. Presumably such things did not change very often. The red velvet upholstery and gilded walls with polished mirrors, the gleaming marble floor, all of it was quite grand. Grander than anything Harry had ever seen since the last time he'd been in this room.

But he did not let himself get distracted by their surroundings. Harry walked confidently toward the throne where King Richard sat in all his regal glory. He stopped at a respectful distance and bowed. "Good afternoon, Your Majesty," he greeted.

"And to you, Sir Harry," the king replied. "I understand you requested this private audience for a very specific purpose."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. He straightened his posture and squared his shoulders. "I have come to seek your permission to ask Princess Louisa's hand in marriage."

King Richard gave just the smallest hint of a smile at that. "And why is it you want to marry the princess?"

Harry had been prepared for this. He was not deluded enough to think that he would not have to explain and prove himself. The answer to this particular question was a very simple one and he gave it simply and honestly. "Because I love her, Your Majesty."

"You were married once before, I understand."

He nodded. "I was. It was not a very happy marriage much of the time, for which I take full responsibility. When Jane asked me for a divorce, I agreed. And since that time, she has unfortunately passed away."

"But you think this marriage would be different?" the king pressed.

"I never intended to ever marry again," Harry admitted. "I was not looking to fall in love. But I do not think it is a surprise to you, Your Majesty, that Ruth is very special. I love her very deeply, and my children adore her as well. They want very much for her to join our family."

That seemed to please the king. But his questioning was not finished. "And what about you joining this family?"

"I will confess I do not know as much about Ruth's family and all that it entails, but I do not ever want to stand in the way of what she wants or needs. I am prepared to support her in whatever duties she must fulfill as princess. I only want to be with her until my dying day."

"With her and only her?"

Oh he was well informed, wasn't he? Harry was actually glad to know that the king had been fully informed of Harry's past. Someone must have had a devil of a time looking into him. There was plenty to find, Harry knew. "Yes, Your Majesty," Harry replied. He remained calm, despite the awkwardness of addressing his past infidelity with the grandfather of the woman he wanted to marry. "I will admit that my daughter had the same concern when she first found out that I had embarked on a romantic relationship, but I am prepared to swear to anyone of consequence who may doubt me that I cannot fathom being unfaithful to Ruth." And that was very much the truth. Harry was at an age where the excitement of conquest to bed a woman had lost its appeal. His eye did not wander as it had when he'd been married to Jane. He was to busy and too tired to even contemplate any dalliances. And beyond that, he had everything he could ever possibly want in Ruth. He had no reason to look elsewhere.

The king did not pursue that line of questioning any further, to Harry's relief. Instead, he went in a different direction. "You know, you are a great deal older than she is…"

Well that statement he didn't enjoy at all. "I am very aware, yes," he replied, doing his best not to start grumbling. "Thus far, it has not mattered between us at all. And I hope that it will only ever matter in that it gives me far fewer days to spend with her when I've grown too old for this life."

King Richard gave a small nod in approval. "And what if she were to become queen?"

That was one question Harry had not expected at all. "Will she?"

"No, it's highly unlikely. But her father, my son, is very ill and may not even survive me. And if my elder son doesn't get around to having any heirs sometime soon, Ruth will become next in line for the throne after Edmund. What if Ruth becomes queen after you are married to her?" he asked again.

Harry swallowed hard at that, trying not to let the nightmare of it infiltrate his mind too much. "I think she'd be a wonderful queen. And if that fate befalls us, we shall face it then." There wasn't much else he could say at that point. Setting aside the idea that Ruth's father was ill, something Harry did not know and would not have guessed, having Ruth become queen was something of a worst-case scenario. Harry did truly believe she would make a wonderful queen; she was so intelligent and kind and her decisions were always measured and as fair as she could make them. She was the sort of person who could inspire others to listen and to follow her lead. But she was also the sort of person who would absolutely hate to be in a position of authority over others. She liked to ask the opinion of others and provide input rather than make decisions herself. And, of course, she despised the spotlight of her royal status. She did her duties well, but she did not enjoy it. Being queen was not a fate Harry would ever wish for her. And being a royal consort was not a fate he wished on himself.

The king sat there, quietly smiling at Harry for a moment. "I can see that you are not intimidated by any of this."

"Will all due respect, Your Majesty, you know what I faced in the war that earned me the knighthood you bestowed. A nice man in a lavishly decorated room is not something that readily strikes fear into me."

King Richard laughed a great booming laugh which Harry found contagious enough to crack a smile at. The king stood up from his throne and walked towards Harry. "Come along, let's continue this in my study," he said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry walked with the king, feeling like this had gone much better than he'd expected. He knew that Ruth loved her grandfather very much, and seeing him like this helped fill in the gaps quite nicely. They went through a door on the other end of the throne room and through another maze of corridors to finally end up in the king's private study. It was decorated in dark, masculine woods and surprisingly clean lines as compared to the ornateness of everything else in the palace. In fact, it looked not too unlike Harry's own office at Foreign Intelligence.

The king offered a chair to Harry and took his own behind the desk. "Now then, I will of course give you my permission to marry our Ruthie. There's some blasted decree I'll have to sign that's presented to the Legislature on your wedding day. I just went through all this with Edmund about four years ago now. And still no children," the king grumbled. "But I think more importantly, I wanted to give you this."

Harry watched curiously as the king unlocked a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small leather box. He passed it across to Harry, who opened it cautiously. Inside was an enormous diamond ring.

"That was the ring I had designed by the royal jeweler to propose to Ruth's grandmother over fifty years ago. I was only a crown prince at the time and I had to ask my father's permission to marry, which was quite a chore in those days. And he told me that I would one day be king and I should have a ring made that would be befitting of the future queen. This was what I came up with."

"It's beautiful, Your Majesty," Harry replied. But he hesitated awkwardly.

The king noticed. "But?"

"It's just that…" The ring was beautiful. It really was. It had an enormous oval diamond in the center, it was set in platinum with almost overpoweringly intricate filigree, and it had even more diamonds in rows all around the band. "I don't think it's really Ruth's style," Harry said delicately.

To his surprise, King Richard smiled. "You're right. Ruthie's not the fancy type at all. But if you wanted to take some of the stones from that ring to have another designed for her, I think that would be best. Ruth is my only grandchild so far, but I already know she shall always be my favorite. And I want her to have a part of this ring. If you prefer to buy something else yourself, I hope you'll give this ring to her another time. I don't like it sitting in a vault all the time, but I do agree that Ruth would never wear it."

Harry felt the enormous faith that was being entrusted to him by the king with this. "I think I will use these stones for another ring. She has spoken about her grandmother, and I know how special she was to Ruth. My daughter, Catherine, is a very creative person, and when I discussed the possibility of proposing to Ruth, Catherine asked if she could help me choose the ring. I'm sure she'll have some very good ideas of how to design something with this."

The king seemed very pleased at that. "Ruth will like that, I think." He stood up and reached his hand across the desk. "I know you'll take some time with the ring and such, but might I be the first to welcome you into the family, Harry?"

The use of his first name without a title was not lost on him. Harry stood up and shook the king's hand. "Thank you very much, Your Majesty."

"And we'll figure out later what you can call me that isn't 'Your Majesty' because that'll just be exhausting for all of us."

Harry laughed at that. "Of course. Thank you, sir."

The king pressed a button on his desk and a guard opened the door. Harry gave a final bow—since the guard was there to witness after all—and allowed himself to be led out of the study and back out to his car. The queen's ring was safe in its box in Harry's pocket.


	26. Chapter 26

_Chapter Twenty-Six_

Harry sat in the back of the car holding Ruth's hand. She had lovely hands. Jane, he recalled, had extremely elegant hands with long, thin fingers. Her hands had always felt small and cold in his. Ruth's hands were less delicate, but he liked that about her. She was small and nervous a lot of the time, but she had a warmth about her. Harry never felt like he'd break her.

His thumb gently stroked her fingers and stopped upon feeling the diamond on her ring finger. And he smiled.

Catherine had been excited beyond belief when Harry had called her into his study and showed her the ring that the king had given him for Ruth. Harry explained that Ruth wouldn't want something like that, but they could use the stones to design a new ring. And Catherine immediately grabbed a sheet of paper and started sketching. He hadn't known she was such an artist. The drawing she came up with was very close to perfect. Harry hadn't realized what would be right for Ruth, other than the general ideas of it being simple and elegant. Catherine had known right away. When he went to the jeweler with her drawing, only minor changes were needed to turn it into something perfect.

After the ring was finished, Harry was dying to be able to propose to her. He had the king's permission and he had his children's blessing. But there was one other person he felt it necessary to consult before he presented the ring and his whole heart to Ruth. Thankfully, Prince James had been all too happy for Harry to come see him at Leister Palace.

Harry had never been to that particular palace before. He'd never been to any royal properties outside the capital. He'd had no reason to before now.

Upon arriving, Harry was treated perfectly kindly by the staff at the palace. Much less formal than when he'd gone to see the king, which was a comfort. But then Harry was led up the stairs in the palace to a distant wing where the prince was in what looked like an unused bedroom. And he was seated in an armchair with a book in his lap and an intravenous line attached to his arm.

"Hello, Major Pearce," the prince greeted.

"Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness," Harry replied, hoping his shock had not shown in his face.

"I can see Ruth hasn't told you about my illness," Prince James said kindly.

Harry shook his head. "But the king did mention you were sick."

The prince chuckled. "My father isn't the most tactful person outside of his royal duties, I'm afraid. I guess he assumed you and Ruth don't have secrets. Which is a good thing to assume. Ruth is generally a very truthful and open person, I think you've found."

That would not have been how Harry would have described her, but he did not want to be rude by disagreeing. Ruth wasn't exactly secretive, but she was not one to lay out her heart or her problems for anyone else to see, not even him.

"I had told her that no one outside of my doctors and the close family was to know of my illness. It's cancer, by the way. But relatively mild and nonaggressive. So long as I remain in regular treatment, there's no immediate threat to my life. Though I am sorry that Ruth did not feel like she could tell you. I had a feeling she hadn't, which was why I invited you here to tell you myself. I hope you'll not hold it against her."

"Not at all," Harry assured him. "I can imagine Ruth did not feel it was her secret to tell. And given the somewhat bifurcated nature of our relationship, between the personal and the working, I certainly cannot hold it against her to keep family matters to herself."

"I've heard tell that our families may become united quite soon. Is that why you're here?" Prince James asked with a knowing smile.

"Yes, sir. I have received the king's permission to marry Ruth, and I wanted to ask you, as her father, for your blessing."

Prince James gave his blessing quite enthusiastically. He beckoned Harry to come sit with him. Harry showed him the ring he had made from Catherine's design. The prince told Harry how nervous Ruth had been to ask whether she'd be allowed to marry a commoner, which she thankfully was allowed to do. Harry also confessed that he had already proposed to Ruth once in a 'spontaneous moment' and that was how all of this had started. And by the time Harry left Leister Palace, he felt rather secure in the idea that Ruth's father could now be counted as a personal friend.

It was only two days after his meeting with her father that Harry finally got to propose to Ruth properly. He had invited her for dinner at his house, led her into his study for a drink, and after a small toast to one another, he got down on one knee and presented the ring to her. He had a whole speech planned about how wonderful she was, how much joy she'd brought to his life, how she'd made him want to be a better father and a better man, how he wanted nothing more than to be with her for the rest of their lives. But in the moment, all the words flew right from his head, and all he could say was that he loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone in all his life and would she do him the honor of marrying him?

Ruth had accepted immediately, kissing him so deeply, he nearly forgot about anything else. But he'd pulled back to place the ring on her finger. It thankfully fit perfectly. And he told her that it was made with stones from her grandmother's ring, given to him by her grandfather for this purpose. Catherine had designed the ring, a very simple platinum band with two tiny baguettes on each side of the large oval diamond turned horizontally.

Harry looked down at the ring on her finger as they rode through the capital in the back of the car Tom drove for them. That ring really was perfect for her. She had told him constantly how much she loved it, and he loved her all the more for it. They were engaged and happy, and Harry could not have imagined anything so wonderful.

At last, the car slowed and stopped in front of the palace. Just as with the state dinner, Tom opened the door for Harry, who then helped Ruth out of the car. The photographers were going mad. Last time, they'd not cared all that much, as Ruth and Harry were merely guests. Now, however, they were the guests of honor. The king was throwing them an engagement party where Harry would be presented to the whole of the noble elite and their engagement would be publicly announced.

Ruth did her best to smile and wave politely. Harry just tried not to look too grumpy in front of the cameras. He offered his arm to her, which she gratefully took, and they went inside without much more fuss.

"Good evening, Your Highness, Sir Harry," greeted a smiling blonde just inside the grand foyer. "I'm Joanna Portman, I work in the Royal Secretarial Office. Might I give you some guidance on the evening's structure?"

Harry and Ruth followed the young woman as she explained the protocols for the engagement party. The guests would each be announced and sent to the receiving line where Harry and Ruth and King Richard would all be greeting them. The princes would arrive early on and mingle with the various other guests to keep them entertained before dinner was served. After dinner, there would be dancing in the ballroom for an hour before the king formally concluded the evening. Then, Harry and Ruth would be allowed to leave.

None of this sounded like much fun to Harry, but then again, he never really was one for formal events or parties of any sort. He much preferred to have dinner in his own home or else a quiet restaurant, and he would have rather spent the evening sitting on the sofa with some good scotch and reading a good book with Ruth in his arms while a classical record played. No such luck of that now.

One benefit to this evening would be that Harry could stand beside Ruth as her fiancé and meet all the people she'd complained about in the years they'd known each other. Other than his brief foray into seducing bored young women with titles about ten years ago, he'd never paid any attention to that world. But that was the past, and not a single woman could ever be of interest to Harry now. After all, he had Ruth in her beautiful white ballgown with a sheer navy overlay to highlight the pale beauty of her skin and the extremely fine form of her figure. Nothing could ever make him prouder than to stand beside her like this.

The first guest to arrive to the receiving line was Ruth's father. He hugged and kissed her and offered another set of congratulations to them—he'd already invited Harry and Ruth to Leister Palace for a celebratory dinner the day after Harry had proposed—and even gave Harry a warm embrace before moving on to greet his father, the king.

A few barons and viscounts came next with their wives. Harry could not recall their names. There was a duchess, a cousin of Ruth's mother, who was very enthusiastic. A confirmed bachelor count, related to Ruth's grandmother, was very complimentary to Ruth on landing such a handsome soldier for a fiancé. Harry did not quite know what to say to that beyond a polite 'thank you.'

"Oh god, the cow is here," Ruth muttered.

Harry knew she was referring to her uncle's wife. A woman who he never knew by name or even by appellation as Ruth's aunt. She was only ever 'Uncle Edmund's wife' and Harry had to admit he was curious to meet her.

The steward at the door announced Crown Prince Edmund and Princess Juliet of Harbridge. And when Harry looked over to see the prince and his wife, his heart sank into his stomach and he felt vaguely like he was about to pass out.

They took their time approaching the receiving line, which gave him a moment to think but far too long to panic. "Ruth, I need to talk to you."

"What is it?" she asked, looking at him with concern. His eyes surely betrayed his feelings even if nothing else did.

"Privately," he amended.

"We can't leave till after the receiving line," Ruth reminded him.

He swore under his breath. "Well, I'm sorry for whatever is about to happen," he whispered.

Ruth looked at him in confusion but was distracted when her uncle came to greet her. "Well if it isn't our reluctant little princess all grown up! Congratulations, Ruth," he said, kissing her cheek. He turned to Harry. "This must be the lucky man."

Harry bowed at the neck. "Yes, Your Royal Highness," he said politely through gritted teeth.

Juliet waited for her husband to shake Harry's hand before touching her cheek to Ruth's in the barest of familial greetings. "Why Ruth, we never would have believed it for you. How lucky that you and Harry found each other."

Ruth, to her eternal credit, took those backhanded compliments in stride. Harry, however, was practically seething with rage. "Thank you," he practically spat.

"Oh Harry, it is lovely to see you again." Juliet had a sparkle in her eyes as she addressed him that reminded him of a snake toying with a mouse before unhinging its jaw.

Thankfully, Prince Edmund did not seem to notice much of anything, and he and his wife moved on to greet the king. Ruth turned to Harry to probably ask what on earth was going on, but the steward announced more guests. And Ruth had been the one to point out that they couldn't get away until after the receiving line was finished. They were trapped.


	27. Chapter 27

_Chapter Twenty-Seven_

To everyone else, it looked as though Harry and Ruth were just taking a moment to themselves before everyone was called to dinner. The receiving line had been completed. Ruth had told her grandfather that she and Harry would be back before the meal. Nothing to see there.

Only Harry knew Ruth quite well by now. He knew that she was seething mad. There was a hardness in her eyes he'd almost never seen, and the way she gripped his arm to lead him to an unused room off the ballroom was nearly enough to bruise him through his formal uniform jacket. And as soon as she closed the door behind them, she whirled around with fire in her eyes. "Tell me," she demanded.

"I wish I'd told you sooner. I swear, Ruth, I had no idea Juliet was your aunt."

"She's not my aunt, she's just the woman married to my uncle," Ruth spat.

That distinction was obviously very important. "Let me explain," he said defensively.

Ruth folded her arms across her chest. The cut of the dress made her décolletage spill over the top of it when she stood like that, but Harry quickly averted his eyes, as it was not appropriate to take notice of such things at this precise moment. "Go on," she allowed. Her voice was so cold.

Harry did not like being in this position. Being made to feel guilty for something he had no proper reason to feel at all guilty for. It wasn't as though he'd cheated on Ruth. And he certainly never would. But the reality of this situation, the fact that Juliet, of all people, had married into the royal family, _Ruth's_ family, was quite unpleasant. "It was a long time ago…" he began.

"How long? I'd like an accurate report," she demanded.

A very small part of him felt oddly proud of her like this. When they had first met and even when they had first started dating, she would not have stood up for herself this way. She may have disapproved or gotten annoyed with him, but she used to get quiet and a bit sulky and retreat from him when it came to the personal. At work, she was quite fierce indeed, though he'd encouraged and cultivated that quality in her, seeing how useful it could be to them both in that context. Here, though, this was new.

But now was certainly not the time to praise Ruth's newfound personal strength. Here and now, it was a bit frightening. She had asked him a question, however, and he intended to give her a full answer.

"It was nine years ago," Harry told her. "After the war ended, I became a bit cavalier about my marriage. I had been separated from Jane for three years during the height of combat, and when I came home, everything was different between us. The children were young, I was newly promoted and I'd been knighted. I was still young and foolish, and I did very foolish things, including a short career seducing women of nobility."

"And the Marchioness of Kerswith was a part of that career?" Ruth's face was the picture of revulsion. Harry did not blame her. He rather felt the same about it now.

He nodded. "The very end of it, actually. I had quite a high opinion of myself. I toyed with women who knew there was no future with me. Some of them were married, like I was, and some were not, just looking for a bit of fun before their families arranged some sort of strategic marriage for them. And then came Juliet."

Ruth shook her head in disappointment. "I cannot believe you, Harry. I knew you had something of a reputation for infidelity in your first marriage, but this?"

"A lot's happened to me in the last nine years, Ruth," he countered angrily. She had no right to say such things to him before he'd gotten a chance to properly explain. Yes, of course, it did look very bad. But he had his reasons. "I was very lost and very selfish and extremely stupid, as I said. And after that, Jane divorced me and I was sent overseas to be responsible for a company of men and women in foreign lands. And then my children lost their mother and I had to learn very quickly how to care for them. You know better than most what a rotten job I did before I was brought in to head Foreign Intelligence with you, and you know I'm not the same man I was all those years ago!"

She stared at him, taking in everything he said. For better or worse, she did not question any part of it. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and she asked in that same cold tone, "So what happened with Juliet?"

Harry had procrastinated a bit of this, desperately not wanting to confess to Ruth, of all people, what had happened with Juliet. But more than anyone else, Ruth deserved to know. Ruth was his fiancée. He loved her and respected her and trusted her more than any other person in the entire world. But he prayed this awful truth would not overshadow what she knew of him here and now. "At the time, I thought that I was in love with her. Maybe I was in love with her. She was unlike the other noblewomen I'd taken to bed. She treated me differently. Some of them were timid and desperate to be given an education. Some were keen to use me as an outlet for their various proclivities and explorations, tastes that were unsatisfied elsewhere in their lives. But Juliet…she was devious, really. She treated me as a person, taking me to her bed with a sense of connection that was lacking elsewhere. It wasn't just sex with her. We made love. I had stopped seeing other women when I was with Juliet. She made me remember how good things had once been with my wife, when I was with someone I cared about and who cared about me."

"So why didn't you marry her?" Her question jolted him out of his memory, and he saw tears gathering in her eyes. Best tell the rest of the story quickly so they could get it over with.

"It was all a lie," Harry told her. The words had the metallic taste of betrayal even still. "She used me. She waited until I was utterly besotted and offering to leave my wife so I could be with her properly. And then she used that as leverage with her father."

"What?"

Obviously Ruth hadn't seen that part coming. Well, neither had Harry. "She told her father that if he did not find a suitable match for her, she would run off with a soldier. She actually told her own father that if he failed to find her a husband of proper standing, she would disgrace the entire family by falling pregnant with an adulterous commoner. And when she told me that, grinning with sick delight, she said her father had begun contracting with the Duke of Shepolk to get her married off."

Ruth frowned. "That was my father's cousin John. He died in a car accident."

"I didn't know," Harry replied softly. "I always assumed she'd married him and gone off to be a duchess. She was barely twenty and already keen to climb the social ladder. Obviously when the duke died before marrying her, she did even better by marrying the Crown Prince instead."

She watched him closely, curiously. "She broke your heart," Ruth said in quiet understanding.

"At the time, yes. I was betrayed and utterly ashamed I'd been duped into the whole thing. Whatever was between us had all been a complete illusion. I cannot believe I was so stupid to fall for it. Any fond feeling I ever had for her has been utterly erased from my mind and my heart, Ruth, I swear to you."

"I believe you, Harry," she answered with a nod. "And I can see why you didn't tell me before. I don't relish retelling my romantic disasters, though I will say none of my boyfriends in school ever treated me that badly. Can't say I'm surprised to know that was what Juliet did to a man. Though I am incredibly sorry she did it to you."

"My own fault for being an adult and fooling about as I did. I deserved what I got for the way I behaved."

Ruth shook her head again. "No one deserves to be treated like that." She crossed toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Harry very gratefully held her close, careful not to disturb the pretty style those hairdressers had spend all that time on. "I'm sorry you're marrying into a family that she's a part of." Her words were muffled against his jacket as she hugged him tight.

"I'm not sorry that I get to marry you, darling. That's all that matters," he murmured in return.

She lifted her head to smile up at him. "Well, we'll just have to do our best to avoid her even more than I already do. I can make sure that we're seated far away from her at state dinners."

"Good," Harry whispered, taking the opportunity to kiss her softy. "Now, I think we'd better go out for dinner. There's speeches and toasts and things in our honor. We should probably be there for it."

"Yes, you're right," Ruth agreed with a sigh. "Though I do wish we could just go home."

"My home or yours?"

"Mine tonight, but once we're married, I assumed I'd move into yours. It's not fair to make the children move. Though Tom will surely hate it, since my house was built to include all the exact security specifications needed. He won't have free reign over your house," she realized.

Harry smiled. He had hoped that she would want that very arrangement, for the same reasons. "We'll deal with it later. We've got enough to contend with now."

When they left the spare room, they found Joanna Portman waiting for them. Apparently everyone was waiting for the guests of honor. She led them to the dining room, where they were announced with a bit of fanfare. One glance at Ruth let Harry know that she hated it as much as he did. But they were seated together, thankfully, at the center of the long table with King Richard and Prince James across from them. Prince Edmund and Princess Juliet were off to one side with some friends of theirs. Ruth's father and grandfather both gave toasts in honor of her engagement and sang Harry's praises for all to hear. The prince focused on how good Harry was to Ruth, how much in love they were, how he and his children had welcomed Ruth into their lives. Of course, he did not know that firsthand, but surely Ruth had told him all those things. The king, on the other hand, focused on Harry's professional career, recounting his heroism during the war that earned him his knighthood and his exemplary military career since then and now heading Foreign Intelligence, which was how he and Ruth had met. It was all quite nice and flattering, though embarrassing for the same reason. The whole room toasted and sipped champagne and the meal was then served.

Having Ruth beside him made the evening bearable. The first state dinner, he'd gotten to sit beside Ruth's father, who was a wonderfully interesting person, and Harry had quite enjoyed getting to talk to him all night. He had absolutely no interest in saying more than two polite words to any of these other people. Ruth must have sensed it, and she took the lion's share of conversation, which he knew she didn't enjoy in the least. But she was in her Princess Louisa role now, doing what needed to be done, and he was proud to watch her dazzle like this, even when she hated it.

After dinner, they got to have some dancing. Harry and Ruth got to dance the first few dances together until Ruth's father cut in. Thankfully, King Richard chatted with Harry while Ruth was otherwise occupied so he wasn't left to the mercy of the hoard. Juliet danced with her husband for a while, and then with the king when Harry was back dancing with Ruth. The last dance of the evening was reserved for Ruth and her grandfather, and Harry was all too happy to go stand and watch beside Prince James as the king's final dance signaled the end of the evening.

At long last, they were allowed to go home. Tom drove them back to Ruth's townhouse, as there were professionals there to help Ruth off with her dress and such. Harry was looking forward to having a quick shower and crawling into her bed beside her. It had been an utterly exhausting evening in more ways than anticipated.

But he and Ruth had said what they'd needed to each other. There was nothing more to really say on the matter. Not just now, anyway. They were quiet on the drive home, holding hands in the backseat of the car. Harry's thumb traced over the engagement ring on her finger, and he smiled, knowing that he was the lucky man who had put it there.


	28. Chapter 28

_Chapter Twenty-Eight_

The last year of her life had been unlike anything Ruth had ever imagined. For all the privilege that being a princess afforded her, she had not ever truly believed that she could find any sort of ordinary happiness. She was bright, she knew, and she was hardworking; satisfaction from her work was not in short supply. But she was uncomfortable with the demands placed on her to engage with the public life of a royal, and she had all but convinced herself that her introversion and awkward intelligence and complete lack of princess-like glamour would leave her to be alone with her cat for the rest of her life.

And though she had met Harry a full three years ago now, she had always dreaded that he would tire of her, that he would see what everyone else always did: she was not worth the effort of putting up with all the royal nonsense, and the excitement of royal life was not worth putting up with Ruth herself. But Harry had proved her wrong. When she had expected him to turn her away, he had instead held onto her that much tighter. He loved her and wanted her in a way that Ruth had not thought possible. It was the stuff of fairytales, she knew, that the princess could fall in love and live happily ever after. Somehow, in spite of her father's cancer and Juliet's unpleasantness and all the other potential pitfalls for them, it seemed that their happily ever after might finally work out.

The wedding was only a week away, now. People from the palace had been busy planning everything, which Ruth both appreciated and despised in equal measure. She didn't want to plan the thing herself, but neither she nor Harry gave a wit about all that pageantry that palace-planned events always entailed. About a month ago, she had to excuse herself to keep from throwing a fit when they tried to get her to choose which doves to release. Not only did she not care a single bit about the type of doves, the assumption that they needed doves at all nearly sent her over the edge.

Thankfully, Ruth's maid of honor was extremely helpful in situations like this. Strong-willed and clever and creative, Catherine was a stronger force at fifteen than Princess Louisa could manage to be at twenty-five. Ruth had been content to meekly question whether things were necessary while Catherine was perfectly pleased to protest and demand whatever it was Ruth wanted. It turned out that Ruth did not actually want much. Harry didn't care at all, of course, insisting that he only wanted to marry Ruth with their loved ones surrounding them, so whatever she wanted on her wedding day, he would gladly accept. So the task fell to Catherine to keep the palace planners from going overboard on everything.

All the planning also allowed Ruth the opportunity to spend more time with her soon-to-be stepdaughter. Ruth had given her a movie camera for her birthday, and Catherine now shared all her projects with Ruth. The two of them had become quite close. Despite their age difference and the fact that Ruth was going to marry Catherine's father, they were able to become good friends through it all.

Graham, too, had grown very close to Ruth as the wedding got closer and closer. He was a sweet boy, growing up and needing more guidance along the way. He, much more than Catherine, looked to Ruth as a mother figure. It was not a role Ruth had ever found herself in before, but she did her best to be patient with him and to answer his questions and give him what he seemed to need from her. Harry had told her on more than one occasion that she was the best thing that had happened to his children in years. And for Ruth, all that mattered was being a part of this family and loving those children as best as she could.

And now the wedding was only a week away. She had spent all day with Catherine on the final details of everything. Her mind was positively spinning from all of it, particularly because Catherine was still in school and Ruth was still working as fulltime as she could possibly manage. They only had the weekends to fully devote to things.

Today, after running all their errands, Ruth had treated Catherine to dinner out at a restaurant, just the two of them. They talked and laughed and enjoyed the small reprieve from all their other stresses, focusing on anything and everything but the wedding. Catherine told Ruth about a boy at her school she had a crush on, and Ruth did not know what sort of advice to give, having never been much good at that sort of thing.

"You can't be too terrible at it, you're getting married next week!" Catherine reminded her.

"I still don't quite know how that happened. I think if Harry hadn't met me at work and seen me first for doing what I'm actually good at, he'd have never given me a second thought. I've never been very outgoing, always really shy around boys. The only boyfriends I had when I was young were ones who asked me out and I learned to like them a bit. I never knew what to do when I liked someone," Ruth explained.

Catherine thought about that for a moment. "Is it a bad idea for a girl to ask out a boy?"

Ruth certainly did not have any definitive answer to that, but she did her best. "I think it depends on the girl and it depends on the boy. Some might be too insecure to not be in charge all the time, and if that's the case, he's not worth your time at all. And you are so strong and independent, and you go after what you want. I think you're the right sort to ask out a boy, and that Thomas ought to know what kind of girl you are. If you want to ask him out, maybe you should."

"What if he says no?"

"Then you'll have your answer," Ruth said simply.

Catherine seemed to appreciate that response. She smiled. "Thanks, Ruth."

After they finished their meal, Ruth and Catherine took a walk around one of the many lavish courtyards in the capital. They had ice cream and wandered as they ate.

"This was where Dad's company was defending, I think," she said. "During the war."

Ruth took a moment to realize they were in fact in Albert Plaza, where a grant bronze statue of Albert the Emancipator stood high above an elegant fountain. "Yes, I think you're right." She shivered, knowing the kind of atrocities that Harry had faced in the war and what horrible things had probably happened right where they were standing.

Catherine pointed up at the statue. "Is he a relative of yours?"

She smiled. "Yes, we're still House Everard today. He was the first one. I don't know if I'm a direct descendant or not; sometimes there are cousins or whatever who end up on the throne due to whatever line of succession. But yes, he's a relative of mine."

"Would you ever want to be on the throne?" Catherine asked.

"Oh no, I'd be awful," Ruth answered immediately. "It's not an easy job. Very little freedom or choice or independence. You've got to follow the rules very closely and always be on your best behavior and make sure everyone likes you."

"You already do all those things, Ruth," Catherine laughed.

Well, in a way Ruth had to agree. "Even so. I don't like being the center of attention. And the monarch is always the center of attention wherever he or she is. Besides, I like my job and I don't want to leave it."

Catherine shrugged. "Might be nice to be important though."

"There are plenty of ways to be important without a crown on your head. The work your dad and I do is important. And you are important, too."

"How do you figure?"

Ruth put an arm around the younger girl's shoulders. "I don't know where I'd be without you, Catherine. You might be young and still in school, but you are very important to me."

Catherine just smiled at that.

The two got back to the house very late. Tom had been driving them and following them all evening, and he was grateful to finally have Ruth safe inside a well-guarded house. Catherine went up to her room and Graham found Ruth and wanted to sit and talk with her a while. Ruth made them each a cup of chamomile tea, and they had a nice long chat before Ruth realized how late it was.

"I know you don't have school tomorrow, but you're a growing boy and you need your rest," Ruth chided, sending him off to bed.

It was then that Ruth realized she hadn't seen Harry all day.

She knew the house very well by now, having spent such a lot of time here while they were engaged and having moved most of her things in already. She went first to Harry's study but found it empty with the lights out. He must have already gone to bed. Goodness, it was late!

Sure enough, Harry was already in bed with the lights out. He'd left on the lamp in the walk-in closet so that she would not be left completely in the dark to get ready for bed. She quickly changed to her pajamas and brushed her teeth before getting into bed beside him as quietly as she could.

"There you are," he said sleepily, rolling over to greet her.

"Shh, yes, I'm sorry. Go back to sleep," she whispered.

"Tell me about your day first," Harry insisted.

Ruth smiled. "We had a very busy day. Most of it isn't important, but one thing was."

"Oh?"

"They finished my dress," she told him excitedly.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"I love it. I think it's perfect. Catherine really liked it, too. And her dress is finished, too, and she looks beautiful in it."

Harry reached over to cup her cheek in his hand, as he so often did when he wanted to show a bit of gentle affection. "Tell me about your dress, Ruth."

"You can't see it until the wedding," she reminded him. It was a silly superstition, but she sort of liked it.

"So just describe it. I'd like to know a bit of what to expect so I don't faint upon seeing you in your wedding dress."

She laughed lightly. "Well, I did succeed in insisting that it not be anything like what they'd think a princess should wear. I hope you like it, even though it's different from the gowns I wear to events and things."

"Is it like the burgundy dress?"

Ruth felt herself blush, recalling all too well that burgundy dress he loved so much. "I don't think that would be very appropriate."

"I don't either, but I thought I'd ask."

"Well, my wedding dress is not like that and there's no ballgown skirt thank goodness. It's got lace and it's beautiful and I love it."

"That's all that matters. I can't wait to see you in it," Harry said.

"Next week," she reminded him.

Harry leaned in to kiss her softly. "Next week," he whispered on her lips.

"Tell me about your day," she requested, having told him the highlight of hers.

"My day was uneventful. I helped Graham with a project for his history class and I went into the office for a few hours to review some reports that have been piling up, and then I had dinner with Graham and Malcolm, and I was reminded that while I do love them both, I much prefer the company of women."

"Is that so?" she teased.

"Well, I like my family all together. You and Catherine were both missed," he told her.

"We're all home where we belong now."

Harry sighed, obviously still on the verge of falling asleep. "That's good."

Ruth kissed him one more time and settled in to follow him to slumber.


	29. Chapter 29

_Chapter Twenty-Nine_

The whole day had flown by in a dream. Ruth didn't know how it had happened. She spent the night at Leister Palace with her father, spending the evening looking at photos of her mother and reminiscing softly with Dad before going to sleep in her childhood bedroom. And then she was woken early in the morning and everything was something of a blur after that.

There were about a dozen people doing her hair and her makeup and getting her dressed. That wasn't too unusual, since all of that happened when she had a formal royal function to attend. But those never happened first thing in the bloody morning. She was scolded about a hundred times for ruining her nails trying to eat toast and messing up her lipstick by drinking coffee. It was stupid to be wearing lipstick so early in the morning. But then again, it was her wedding day. There was nothing at all ordinary about today.

Ruth had been told many times what the requirements were, though at six in the morning, the reason they were required had escaped her. But she had to be made up and ready to be photographed in the grand foyer of Leister Palace while avoiding all the servants setting things up for the wedding.

A number of options were presented to Ruth for the royal wedding—ignoring the fact that Harry was not a royal and Ruth was a second rate one at that. Both she and Harry had been adamant on not being married in some horrific cathedral, so that narrowed the options. Grandfather had offered the royal palace, but they had politely declined that as well. Only the reigning monarch and his immediate successor was entitled to be married there, and Ruth wouldn't have felt right about it, not even counting the fact that the last wedding held there had been Uncle Edmund and Juliet. And in the end, Leister Palace, where Ruth had been born and lived all her life before leaving for university, was the perfect place. Plus, with Dad's illness, it was best he did not have to travel far.

After the photos of her alone, posing in all sorts of ways that made her absolutely hate herself, Dad appeared in all his beautiful royal regalia. That was the first genuine smile she'd had so far.

"You're missing something, I'm afraid," he said. He revealed a box from behind his back and presented it to her. "This was the one your mother wore when we got married. You've got a diamond from your grandmother's ring, I thought you'd like to have something of your mum's too."

Ruth's eyes widened, even with the fake lashes weighing them down, when she saw the exquisite tiara that he'd presented to her. She knew this one very well. It was in all the best pictures of her mother, including her parents' wedding photos. The diamonds glittered like new.

"I had it polished and ready for you. Let's see if one of those brilliantly talented women can fix it in your hair properly," he suggested.

Three women, in fact, appeared as if by magic and secured the tiara into the beautiful hairdo that they'd created for her. They then hurried out of frame so father and daughter could have their photos taken.

It seemed all Ruth did all morning was take photos. The maid of honor, Catherine, arrived a little while later for their photos together. She looked so beautiful in the long-sleeved blue lace gown. Their dresses actually went really nicely together with the matching sleeves and lace, though of course Ruth's dress as white and much more opulent than Catherine's. She was just glad she'd gotten the powers that be to agree to letting her wear a dress that did not make her feel like a pavlova.

And then, as though an entire day had not passed just in the preparations and photos, it was time for Ruth to get ready. Apparently Harry and Graham—the best man—were already in the ballroom in their places. The guests had all arrived, and Catherine and Dad were there waiting with her. Music started playing and Catherine walked down the aisle. She was so elegant, so confident for someone so young. Not like Ruth at all, and Ruth admired the young woman for it. But she could not see much, as she could not peek without being spotted before it was time.

Someone fixed Ruth's skirt and veil and handed her the bridal bouquet and suddenly Dad wrapped her arm around his. "Ready, dear?"

Ruth had never been more ready for anything in all her life.

The ceremony was a whirlwind. She could recall quite clearly the feeling of the room all filled and everyone standing to watch her walk down the aisle. All she saw, though, was the way Harry smiled at her, the way his eyes were a bit watery as he watched her walk toward him. Thank god Dad was holding onto her or she'd have tripped and fallen, what with the way she wasn't paying attention.

Grandfather stood from where he sat in the front row and walked her up with Dad the last few steps to the makeshift altar. He used his most regal voice to proclaim the royal consent to the marriage of Louisa Ruth Emilia Catherine, Princess of Leister, to Sir Henry James Pearce, Major of His Majesty's Royal Army.

Dad lifted her veil and kissed her cheek, and Harry finally took her hand. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered. Ruth felt herself blush, as he'd said those same words to her when they had made love the first time and again when she had surprised him with the burgundy dress and he'd ended up spontaneously proposing. The memory of those occasions filled her heart with joy, but having him say them now, when they were about to be wed, meant everything.

Before she knew it, she and Harry had both said "I do," and put the wedding rings on each other's fingers. Unbeknownst to Ruth, her father had given Harry the wedding band that had been her mother's. The tiara and the wedding band that had once belonged to her dearly departed mother were now with her on the day she married the love of her life. She could not have asked for anything more.

But oh, then Harry kissed her! A round of applause and cheers meet their first kiss as husband and wife, this time from the crowd of people and not just ringing inside her head. And they were married.

"Everything alright, darling?"

Ruth turned to see Harry watching her curiously. "Yes, sorry, I was just thinking back on the day. It's been quite a lot."

"Catherine had to be here at nine in the morning for photographs and the ceremony didn't start until one. What time did they get you up?" he asked.

She stabbed a carrot on her plate in annoyance. "I had curlers in my hair at six in the morning. That was the first time I noticed the clock. I don't know what time they dragged me out of bed."

Harry chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Well, make sure you have some coffee because I'm going to be keeping you up all night," he whispered.

Ruth knew that tone. She knew exactly what he meant. After all, it was their wedding night and Harry had promised her he'd planned it and their honeymoon to perfection. And Ruth had gone all by herself—mercifully not with Catherine—to a very fancy shop full of naughty lacy things and bought something to surprise her new husband. She certainly wanted to be awake enough enjoy it.

She turned and smiled to her husband. Oh how she loved to call him that! All around, people were drinking and eating and dancing and enjoying the party. She was so glad they'd stood firm on not having as much of the silly formalities at their wedding reception. It was a happy, easy affair, despite being in a royal palace.

The evening was starting to wind down. After the official wedding portraits with the whole family and the wedding party and just the bride and groom following the ceremony, there had been a cocktail hour in the grand foyer with all the beautiful toasts to the newlyweds from Ruth's father and grandfather and from Malcolm and a very sweet joint speech from Catherine and Graham. Then they'd all gone back to the ballroom, transformed from rows of seats and an altar to tables surrounding a dance floor, where the band was starting to play. Harry and Ruth had the first dance together, then Harry with Catherine and Ruth with her father. They danced and danced with everyone they could possibly find. Ruth only had to suffer one dance with Uncle Edmund and thankfully Dad had danced with Juliet so Harry wouldn't have to speak to her. Ruth also danced with Graham and with Malcolm and a few other cousins. Poor Harry was passed around between some of the countesses and duchesses with Ruth danced with their husbands. Finally they'd been allowed to sit for dinner, which was now starting to end.

"Harry," Ruth said quite suddenly.

"Yes, Ruth?" he responded.

She smiled. "Dance with me."

"You're not tired of dancing?"

Ruth shook her head adamantly. "I only got to dance with you once. And I'm the bride and people keep telling me that means I can get whatever I want on my wedding day, and what I want right now is to dance with my husband."

Harry stood, beaming and holding his hand out to her. "I promise you, darling, I shall never turn down an opportunity to dance with my wife."

The band started playing a gentle foxtrot, and Harry twirled Ruth around the floor. They laughed and kissed as they danced. Ruth had never been so happy in all her life. It was the first time she'd ever really felt like a princess.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: M-rating**

_Chapter Thirty_

When the wedding reception ended, Harry whisked Ruth off to a grand hotel, the one where visiting glitterati always stayed in the capital. Ruth herself had never stayed there before, as she lived in the capital so why would she need a hotel? But Harry had planned their honeymoon—which was still a surprise that she hadn't been informed of yet—and apparently they'd be leaving sometime the next day. But their wedding night was special and needed to be somewhere special. The grand suite of the hotel was certainly special.

A bit of the romance was lost when they had to wait for Tom and his team to do all the proper checks before allowing them to go inside the hotel and up to their room. But for once Ruth appreciated getting the royal treatment; she could walk holding her husband's hand and wearing her wedding dress and her mother's tiara that was now her own and did not need to worry about being seen or bothered or anything else. And at last, they were inside the hotel suite and the door was closed and locked behind them, and Harry and Ruth were finally alone.

Ruth noted with pleasure that their bags were already in the room, including the one where she'd packed her very special wedding night outfit. She'd need to change into that soon.

She gazed around the room and smiled, knowing Harry was watching her and smiling softly himself. "Could you help me with my dress, please?" she asked.

"Of course," he answered.

Ruth stood with her back to him. There were a few dozen buttons all down the back of the dress that a whole team had helped her get into. She would obviously need assistance getting the dress off. Harry set right to work.

"You described the dress to me last week, but I didn't imagine how beautiful it would be on you. I think I stopped breathing when I saw you walk down the aisle today," he told her.

"I didn't want anything poofy like that grand gown from my twenty-fourth birthday. Nothing that said Princess Louisa more than Ruth. I wanted to be myself and feel like myself when I married you because you've always treated me like me and not as a princess. Unless you're teasing me about it," she said.

Harry had the first few buttons undone now and pressed a kiss to the exposed nape of her neck. "You are Ruth, first and always to me. My Ruth, my wife," he murmured into her skin.

She felt shivers pass through her at his gentle words. She stayed quiet, though, while he continued on those buttons. When they were all undone, she gently stepped out of the dress. That was more effort than it should have been, thanks to the long train and layers and layers of lace. She was still in her slip and her shoes and her tiara, and she kept those on for a little while. Ruth made her way over to the wardrobe to hang the dress. Someone would be by tomorrow after they left to collect the dress and the jewels and put them into proper storage for her. But she did not want to leave the dress in a wrinkled heap, not something as beautiful as that.

Ruth went over to the mirror by the vanity table in the hotel room and found the pins that held the tiara in place. She saw Harry in the mirror behind her removing his formal jacket with his medals clinking as he did. Ruth was not really too concerned about his military heroism any more than he was about her royal status, but they both admired such things in the other as such a vital part of what made them who they were. And for that, she was proud to have an army hero as her husband. Harry had suffered and bravely fought and defended the country and led his men to great victory, though she had to admit that she was glad to not have known him during that period. Better that they should have met when they did, when he had gotten all of that heroism and the strange sense of confusion and loss and chaos that followed out of his system.

But there was time to contemplate Harry later. Time was moving swiftly, and Ruth did not want to waste any of it. She went back to carefully removed her tiara. "This was my mother's," she said. "Dad gave it to me today. I don't think I've ever seen it except in pictures."

Harry smiled in the mirror at her. "It's perfect for you. Some of the others I've seen you wear at various events have been a bit much. This one suits you best, I think."

Ruth very much agreed with him on that. She left the tiara and slipped out of her shoes, leaving them next to the vanity and out of the way. Left just in her slip and stockings, Ruth padded over to her overnight bag, kissing Harry's cheek on her way. "I'll be right back. I've got something for you," she said cryptically. And with that, she closed the door to the bathroom behind her.

As quick as she could, Ruth took off everything she was still wearing and slipped on the lingerie set that she'd purchased for their wedding night. White lace knickers that barely covered anything and a teddy on top. Her breasts were encased in white silk and the silk straps held it up and the rest of it was made of delicate sheer lace. She looked at herself in the mirror and combed her fingers through her hair to make it a bit less elegant and a little more enticing. She also considered washing her face to get all the makeup off, but what did it matter if they got the pillows and sheets all dirty? They were in a hotel and they'd only be there for a single night.

At last she was ready. Ruth opened the bathroom door and stepped out to where her husband was waiting. Harry was standing there, now with his tie and shoes and socks off and his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His eyes bugged out when he saw her, and she noticed his hands twitch, almost as though he could not wait a second before reaching out to touch her. "Oh…Ruth…" he breathed.

She was quite pleased with her effect on him. But she wasn't going to let him have all the fun. "I'd like to undress my husband now," she announced.

Harry just nodded a bit uselessly. Ruth's hands were gentle as she pulled his shirt from his trousers and unbuttoning the rest of it. His breathing grew a bit heavier as her fingers danced over him, tracing the defined muscles of his shoulders and arms as she pushed the shirt off him, smoothing over his chest and abdominals after pulling his vest over his head. It wasn't until she'd undone his belt and pushed his trousers to the floor that his attention snapped back.

He stepped out of his trousers before he pulled her into his arms and placed his hands on her bum to lift her up. Ruth immediately wrapped her legs around his waist. With a growl, he began kissing her hungrily.

As his tongue surged into her mouth, Ruth felt her whole body begin to tingle with the telltale arousal that Harry never failed to inspire in her. He swallowed her moans as she anchored his face to hers and moved her hips to try and get a bit of friction between them. She was in her fancy lingerie and the feel of the lace was rather pleasant. But she would need to feel his skin on hers, every single bit.

It took her a moment to realize that they were moving. Ruth was too caught up in their passionate kiss to take much notice, but by the time she did, he had placed her down in the middle of the bed. She lay there, gasping for air, and pushing herself up on her elbows so she could watch him stand at the end of the bed in front of her. Ruth let out a happy little sigh.

"Yes?" he asked, his eyes dark and shining as he gazed down at her.

"Oh I was just thinking that I have the most beautiful husband in all the world."

His face broke into a proud grin, but he laughed, "You must love me very much if I've tricked you into that, Ruth. But I am quite certain I've got the most beautiful wife."

Her heart beat faster at his words. She had known since their first date that Harry found her attractive and sexy and beautiful. He was never short of compliments for her body and appearance. But despite her youth and her royal status giving her every adornment imaginable, Ruth had never put much stock in her own beauty. She'd never much cared. Harry, though, said things like that to make her truly believe that to him, at least, she was the most beautiful wife. And she was _his_ wife, which was all that mattered.

Harry seemed to have a plan now. He knelt on the bed by her feet and lifted each of her legs, caressing her calves and thighs with his gentle but powerful hands and his equally gentle and powerful kissed. She reveled in his attentions. But very quickly, he removed her lacy knickers and spread her legs before him. And before she knew it, his lips and tongue were tracing lines up her inner thighs and buried between them.

Ruth bit her tongue to keep from crying out with the sudden onslaught. But then she remembered that they were not at home where the children were just down the hall. They were in a hotel room and all alone. And this was their wedding night. She gasped loudly and moaned his name as his tongue tortured her to the very heights of ecstasy.

The noises Ruth made were uncontrollable. She bucked her hips against his face and cried out his name. He sucked hard on her most sensitive spot and plunged two thick fingers inside her, curling to heighten every sensation. She was panting and begging for him to move harder and faster for her release. Harry was nothing if not obedient to her in bed like this.

Ruth felt herself be built up and up an dup until her body trembled and spasmed beneath his touch. Her core pulsated around his fingers, radiating pleasure through her whole body. Harry pulled away as she settled. He moved beside her on the bed and rolled over, pulling her into his arms.

She felt his hands caressing her silk-covered breasts, and she hummed in appreciation. "This is a very lovely surprise. I like you in lace very much," he murmured.

The next thing she knew, he'd pulled the teddy off and she was lying on her back again. Harry had a hand on one of her breasts and his mouth on the other. "Oh god, Harry!" she groaned, feeling herself be built back up from the beautiful attention of his teeth and tongue.

Harry just chuckled proudly, undeterred from his task. He tried a few different things to elicit a specific high-pitched gasp from her. "I love the sounds you make," he growled against her breast.

Ruth was starting to feel a bit frenzied. Already he'd made her come once, but she knew from experience that there was plenty more to come. But this wasn't what she needed. It took every ounce of effort in her body, but she pushed herself up and reached down to shove Harry's trunks down his legs.

He did not pay much attention to what she was doing, but very quickly, Ruth's nimble fingers were wrapped around his hard cock. She stroked him with the confidence of experience over their last two years together. It wasn't until she'd been with Harry that she had ever felt like a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it, but she certainly did with him. Harry abandoned his exploration of her breasts and fell back, moaning her name.

"I want you, Harry," Ruth whispered.

That was all it took. He rolled over and settled between her legs, already spread and waiting for him. He gave no buildup as he rubbed the head of his cock against her wet folds and thrust hard inside her.

Ruth cried out at the way he suddenly filled and stretched her. He felt so good, absolutely perfect in every way. Her Harry was very good at this always, and Ruth knew their lovemaking was unparalleled, particularly after all the practice they'd had over their years together.

But he wasn't moving the way she wanted him to. Ruth reached out and dug her fingernails into his bum, pulling him in deeper and grinding her hips to create the friction she needed. Harry watched where their bodies were joined in awe as she took her pleasure on him, even with him poised on top of her as he was. It didn't take long, as he'd already built her up so much, till she jerked against him and gasped in her next orgasm.

Harry had to pull out, breathing heavily, trying to regain his control. Ruth was panting and could not see straight for a few moments, but soon she could gaze at him with dark, smiling eyes.

"Having fun?" he teased.

She gave a breathy laugh. "With you, always." She pulled herself up, feeling a bit shaky and loose, and pushed Harry back onto the bed. He lay there against the pillows and watched her with eyes dark with lust.

She kissed down his chest, adoring the strong, solid muscles that kept her so happy and safe. He'd made a bit of a fuss at his last birthday, turning forty. But he was still in remarkably good shape for his age, even if his belly was starting to get a bit softer. And Ruth wouldn't have wanted him any other way. Harry made happy little sighs as she made her way downward, and she delighted in hearing his pleasure at her efforts. She took him in her mouth with very little pretense. It was always exhilarating to take him like this, to be in complete control of him and drive him a bit mad. She especially enjoyed when he helped her along, as he did not. Harry's fingers twisted in her hair, holding her tightly to guide her movements, giving him exactly what he needed. The way he pulled her hair against her scalp was just on the right side of painful, and she loved it. Every single sensation heightened her want of him, her excitement over what was to come.

Harry thrust into her mouth in one uncontrolled spasm before he stopped himself and pulled her off him. "Lie down," he instructed with ragged breath.

Ruth was breathing a bit heavy herself and lay herself in the middle of the bed beside him.

But Harry shook his head. "Flip over."

A shiver passed through her as Ruth rolled over onto her stomach and arched her back, lifting her hips off the bed. Harry covered her body in an instant, squeezing the firm flesh of her bum for a moment before pushing inside her so slowly, she nearly wept to feel every single inch of him fill her up. "Harry!" she breathed, gasping for air as her faced pressed against the pillow.

He readjusted his grip on her, sliding his hand under her body. His pace was achingly slow. His fingers grasped her breast, rolling her nipple a bit roughly, and Ruth whimpered in response.

"More," she begged, unable to form any other words. He was filling her, surrounding her, reaching so deep inside her, she saw stars in front of her eyes. His breath was hot against her neck, and she could feel him move to nibble at her earlobe.

He shifted again so he could reach around her body with his other hand and stroke her in time with his thrusts. He started to speed up and took her at a furious pace, pounding into her with everything he had. Ruth cried out as her climax crashed over her. Harry was unrelenting, chasing his own release inside her. Hard and deep and powerful, every thrust of his hips and touch of his hands overpowered every single one of her senses. His breath was hot against her neck, his sweaty skin sliding over hers. Ruth could barely breathe when Harry turned her head toward him and kissed her hard. And then with three last sputtering thrusts of his hips, he spilled inside her just as her inner walls clamped down with another vise grip around his cock, leaving them both whimpering and gasping.

Harry flopped down beside her, slipping out of her body to collapse on his stomach and catch his breath. Ruth rolled over to escape the wet patch they'd left on the bed. She was still trying to catch her breath but she did not want to be apart from him, not after the glory of all they'd just done. She turned to see him so exhausted, and she could not resist climbing on top of him. His back, like the rest of his body, was littered with various battle scars. She perched herself on his bum and traced each mark with her fingers and her lips.

Harry sighed happily at the love she imbued into his skin. She shifted so her breasts pressed up against him and her tongue flicked out against his skin. "That feels nice," he whispered.

"Good," she replied, covering his back in wet kisses.

"I think I've done all I can for the night," he told her regretfully.

"Me too," she told him. "I just want to be sure my husband knows how much I love and care for him."

He smiled, resting his head on his arms. "Your husband knows. And your husband loves you beyond words."

Ruth sat up again and lightly scratched his scalp. His golden curls were so soft between her fingers, though she thought she might be starting to notice them thin just a little. He was forty, after all.

After a moment, he lifted his head. "Ruth, I think we ought to get cleaned up before bed, unless you want me falling dead asleep just like this."

She agreed and climbed off him. Harry sat up and kissed her for a long moment before taking her hand and leading her into the bathroom.

It was somewhere in the middle of the night when they settled into the bath together. Harry leaned up against the back of the tub with Ruth resting against his chest. Everything was quiet and peaceful as they lay wrapped around each other. Harry's hands wandered her body under the water, and she made absolutely no effort to stop him. His fingers dipped between her legs and she shifted her hips to give him a bit more space. Her head fell back against his shoulder as she gave a happy hum.

"I think we've made a good start at marriage, don't you think?" he whispered in her ear.

"Oh I think so, especially if you're going to keep touching me like that," she teased.

His right index finger slipped inside her, making Ruth mewl in appreciation. Harry's left hand held hers, tracing her wedding ring with his own. "I'll love you and please you till my dying day, Ruth. I won't ever let you go," he vowed.

Ruth moaned and came against his hand a moment later, gasping and trembling and whispering her love for him over and over and over.


	31. Chapter 31

_Chapter Thirty-One_

Harry Pearce had never fancied himself the sort to have a tropical vacation. He'd been stationed in tropical climates and found them humid and full of bugs and more trouble than they're worth. Yes, the beaches were lovely and the palm trees were a nice change of pace from home, but that was something for other people to enjoy. Something for people who did not have the same importance in their lives as Harry did in his.

But here he was, lying out on the deck of a yacht off the coast of Gambon on his honeymoon. He'd chartered the whole thing with the assistance of Tom Quinn and the Royal Guard. Tom himself was there, much to their chagrin, along with a fully vetted crew. But they were all well-trained. Other than the captain asking them where they'd like to go, not a single person bothered them. If it wasn't for the fantastic meals showing up and the cleaning being done, he'd have thought they were completely alone on the boat.

Ruth had been amazed by the surprise. They'd spent their wedding night in the hotel suite which consisted of very little time actually sleeping. Thankfully they were exhausted enough to sleep on the plane, which was privately chartered and Harry still wouldn't tell her where they were going. All she knew was that her bags were packed on her behalf and they'd be spending three weeks away from home. When they were woken by the stewardess for the final descent, Ruth was shocked to see glittering blue water out the window beneath them.

"Where are we!?" she asked in surprise.

"Where do you think we are?" he asked in return, teasing her.

She looked out and Harry could see the brilliant wheels of her mind turning as she figured it out. "I think that's Gambon," she said.

"Right in one," he replied. "I've never been here for pleasure before, and I know it's somewhere you enjoyed traveling."

Ruth blushed. "This was where I went right after you asked me out for the first time. I talked to Grandfather about whether or not I should agree to go to dinner with you when I got back."

"Yes, I know. I remember when you were gone and how much I missed you and how anxious I was if you'd say yes or if I'd completely ruined things between us," he replied softly.

She smiled. "But instead we got married two years later."

Harry leaned in to kiss her softly. "Yes, thank god we did."

When the car took them from the airport to the docks, Ruth got very confused, wondering why they weren't at a hotel. And when Harry showed her the yacht, she'd been overjoyed. Which was exactly his intention.

They'd spent the last ten days lazing about, lying in the sun and swimming in the sea and making love whenever the mood stuck and exploring various parts of the island and eating the most incredible meals and going to bed naked in each other's arms each night. Exactly what a honeymoon trip was supposed to be. For Harry, it was the first time he'd ever had uninterrupted time with Ruth for more than a day or so. And it was absolutely incredible.

He had felt quite sure when he'd proposed—the second time—that he was quite ready to marry her. But as much as he adored her and wanted to be with her, there were a few lingering doubts. Their age difference, for one, still weighed on him sometimes. She was twenty-five years old with her entire life ahead of her. Did she really want to saddle herself to him, a man now entering middle age with two practically grown children? And would he find himself missing his solitude, after having spent so long shunning the company of others most of the time? And, the darkest doubt of them all, would he wake up one day and find himself searching for something else? They'd only been married two weeks, which wasn't much time at all, but Harry found himself losing hold of those fears. They way Ruth looked at him, the way she kissed him, the way she clung to him when he held her in his arms, he knew he never wanted to let her go. And she seemed just as certain that she wouldn't let him.

Harry felt a little hot in the sun and sat up to change positions. He looked over to see Ruth lying on her back wearing a swimsuit that, upon finding it in her bag, had initially made her blush. But Harry had coaxed her into wearing it, since he was the only one who would see her, and she had eventually relented. It was a beautiful deep green color, which looked wonderful with her pale skin and dark hair. The bottoms were cut high on her legs, showing off her shapely hips and thighs, and reached just below her navel. The top barely covered her breasts and showed off her chest and what cleavage she could claim to possess very nicely. Harry sat there for a moment, just gazing at this beautiful woman he could miraculously call his wife.

"Stop staring at me," she grumbled. Her eyes were closed, but she obviously sensed him.

"I can't help it. You're too beautiful," he answered.

Ruth sat up herself at that, putting her hand up to shield her eyes from the glaring sun. "You see me naked every single day," she reminded him with a laugh.

She had never been one to really accept or understand how rather obsessed he was with her beauty. And yes, it was true that she did not have the look of a movie star or a model. Her figure was lovely but not perfect by societal standards. But Harry loved her. And for that reason beyond all other, he found her beautiful. He explained, "I have seen flowers and sunsets nearly every day, too, but that doesn't mean they aren't still beautiful and worth looking at."

That seemed to have the desired effect. Her face spread into a grin and she crawled over to him. "You know, you've already married me. You don't need to try so hard to get into my knickers," she murmured.

What a picture she was, kneeling in front of him like that, her pale eyes shining as she looked at him. Harry pulled her into his arms and lay down so she was on top of him. "There's no fun in an unearned prize," he pointed out.

She shook her head and laughed lightly. "You are a strange man, Sir Harry."

"I'm glad you could look past it to find a way to marry me, Princess," he replied.

Ruth made a little growling sound, as she often did when he teased her about being a princess. Harry just laughed and pulled her back in to kiss him.

They remained that way for an indeterminate amount of time, Ruth lying on top of him and wiggling in a tempting manner as her bare stomach pressed against his and their tongues tangled together till they could barely breathe. Harry would have been quite content to spend the rest of the afternoon that way.

"Your Highness?"

The sudden voice made them both jump apart. Ruth scrambled off him and grabbed her towel to cover her scantily clad body. Harry felt dazed, trying to remember how to breathe and hoping his burgeoning erection wasn't too conspicuous. He stood up and remained slightly behind Ruth, both as a show of deference to her status and to hide himself.

A man in a suit stood there looking very uncomfortable indeed. He opened his mouth to speak when the sound of running caught everyone's attention. Tom came hurrying around the corner of the deck.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ruth," he apologized. "I meant to give you warning, but I had to speak to the captain."

Ruth frowned. "What's going on?"

The man in the suit answered, "King Richard has had a heart attack. He is alive but in hospital. I've been sent by the palace to retrieve you and Sir Harry."

Harry felt Ruth tense beside him. Her hand reached toward him and he took it without question. She squeezed it desperately.

Tom spoke again. "I've already told the captain to take us back to port. I've put in a call to the airport to get a plane ready. The crew are packing your bags now so you can be ready to leave."

The two men left and Ruth turned to her husband. "Harry, what do we…"

He held her tight. "We go home. We'll be there in just a few hours. He's getting the best possible care. You'll get to see him soon. Before you know it," he told her, stroking her hair and trying to keep her calm.

"I have to be there, Harry. If he dies, I have to be there. I can't…I can't not…" She trailed off as her breath hitched.

"Shh, I know, darling," he soothed. "Let's get cleaned up and dressed. We'll be home soon."

He had no idea if they'd make it back in time. If the king died, it would be a massive shift in the whole world. Prince Edmund being crowned would mean countless changes for the country and the colonies and international relations. Foreign Intelligence would be very busy, he knew. But even more important was Ruth's close relationship with her grandfather. Losing him would be a blow to the whole family. Harry himself had a great respect and admiration for the old man. And for a whole variety of reasons, he wasn't much a fan of Edmund. But that was a problem for another day. At least, Harry hoped it was.


	32. Chapter 32

_Chapter Thirty-Two_

"Dad?"

Harry looked up from his desk to see Graham peeking his head through the door to the study. "Come in," he said, beckoning for his son to enter. "What do you need, Graham?"

Graham furrowed his brow, causing Harry to realize that he'd probably been a bit abrupt with his tone. Harry was under quite a lot of strain at that precise moment, and he needed to temper his initial reactions.

As he stood up, Harry gestured to the sofa. "Sorry, here, let's have a seat," he offered.

That seemed to do the trick. Graham's expression relaxed and he sat down on the sofa to wait for his father.

Harry went over to the sideboard where he kept his scotch and poured a glass for himself. Upon momentary reflection, he poured a very small one for Graham as well. "Here, I've got a feeling we could use it."

Graham took the glass warily. "I thought you said I couldn't try it till I was fourteen. That's what you said when Catherine got to try some when you told us about proposing to Ruth."

"Do you really want to tell me that you've never once tried a drop of alcohol in your life?" Harry asked wryly. He knew his son. For all that Graham was an earnest and enthusiastic boy, he was not the closest adherent to the rules. Catherine was more apt to be outwardly defiant, as she was a fifteen-year-old girl with a dead mother and a largely absent father, so such things were to be expected. Graham, however, had a rather reckless streak in him. He did not cause a fuss as Catherine did. He just simply did what he wanted sometimes. Only rarely was it ever anything that would harm or upset anyone. His disobedience was never so outward or flashy. But Harry was very familiar with the levels of the bottles in his study, and he knew that Malcolm kept his own in his room when he drank alone. It was not Malcolm or Catherine—who was now very strongly convinced that any alcohol other than wine was pure evil—who had been taking nips of the scotch.

"How did you know?" Graham asked. He watched his father carefully to try and see how much trouble he might be in.

But Harry didn't much care. Graham had never been caught drunk, so he obviously wasn't drinking too much or too frequently. "I'm not telling you how I knew, but I did. I'm the Head of Foreign Intelligence, Graham. You think I don't know what goes on in my own house? And don't try and say that I'm never here; we both know that's not true and that's an excuse your sister uses far too much and I'm frankly quite tired of it."

Graham shrugged and drank down the small amount of scotch Harry gave him in one go. In that moment, Harry saw, for the first time, that his son was becoming a man. He wasn't a boy any longer. Not really. Harry caught a glimpse of the man that Graham would become. He was Harry himself in miniature. Same build, same hair, same eyes. Graham had his mother's nose and mouth, but the difference wasn't so stark. And Graham was developing a casual edge about him that Harry recognized from his own youth. He was so smart and so good, and Harry was just so proud to see him grow up.

"What did you want to come see me about, Graham?" Harry asked, slowly sipping his own scotch. He did not get Graham a refill.

"I actually wanted to see if Ruth was home yet."

Harry sighed sadly. He and Ruth had gotten home from their honeymoon two days earlier. It had lasted half as long as it was supposed to, and the children were shocked to see them back so soon. Ruth had instructed Tom to be in constant contact with the Royal Guard at the hospital and have updates hourly, so she knew that her grandfather was in and out of surgery and testing for almost an entire day. No bad news beyond the heart attack itself. And because of that, she allowed them to go home to wash up and change before going to the hospital. She was more agitated and anxious than Harry had ever seen her. Quiet and tense and sullen. He did not know what he could do for her, so her just held her hand all through their travels. He had ushered her upstairs to their room while he went to greet the children and explain what had happened. Ruth had found Harry in Catherine's room, and without a word, Catherine got up from where she'd been sitting on her bed and gave Ruth a hug. Harry watched his wife and daughter embrace and noticed how Ruth squeezed her eyes shut to try to keep from crying.

And within about half an hour, Harry and Ruth left the house again and went right to the hospital. They were unable to see the king, but were told that he was out of surgery and being monitored closely. Ruth wanted to stay and wait, but Tom subtly informed them that Prince Edmund and Princess Juliet were on their way. Neither Ruth nor Harry wanted to see them in the best of times, least of all when emotions were already running high. They'd gone home and to bed where Harry held Ruth all night but neither of them got any sleep at all. And the following morning, Ruth got up early and had Tom take her back to the hospital. She left a note for Harry where she'd be and that she'd inform him as soon as there was any news. She had not been back home yet. It had been over nearly two full days. And no news.

"She's not home yet," Harry told Graham. "But I haven't heard anything from her, and in this circumstance, no news is good news."

"Are you sure?" Graham asked nervously.

Harry nodded. "She said she'd let me know if there was any change. Last we heard, King Richard was stable and recovering from surgery but still unconscious. We all hope he wakes up, of course, but if anything bad's happened, we'd know," he assured his son.

Graham sighed and leaned back on the sofa. He had only met the king once, but Harry knew the boy was delighted by his new step-great-grandfather. King Richard had been so welcoming and kind and friendly to the children at the wedding. There were so many people and there was so much going on, but with the way the reception had been arranged, Harry and Ruth were seated at the head of the table with the members of the immediate family sitting with them. Malcolm had been seated at the table with them just to make sure that the children behaved properly. But Graham had gotten to sit beside the king and the two had taken an immediate liking to one another. Catherine had gotten the opportunity to sit with Ruth's father and she had begun to forge a close bond with Prince James. He was the closest thing to a grandfather she'd ever known. Harry's mother died when he was still in school, Jane's parents had died in the war when the children were too small to have remembered them, and Harry's father had been estranged from the family for two decades before Harry'd gotten word that the man had died just after Jane had.

"You'll get to see him again," Harry told Graham. "Just like how Ruth joined our family when we got married, all of us joined her family as well. King Richard and Prince James are our family now, and I know they want a chance to know you and Catherine and me better."

"What about Prince Edmund?"

Harry grumbled slightly at that. "What about Prince Edmund?"

"He's our family now, too, right?"

"Technically yes, but Ruth isn't close to her uncle so I doubt we'll see too much of him."

Graham took note of his father's tone and wisely chose not to ask any further questions.

Before either of them could say anything else, the study door opened without any warning. And even if Harry hadn't seen her, he'd have known it was Ruth. She always seemed to enter his office—both at home and at Army Intelligence—without knocking.

Harry was immediately on his feet to greet her. "What's happened?" he asked. He crossed over and met her halfway, pulling her into his arms. She was drawn and tired-looking, her face pale and her eyes red and her whole countenance exhausted. But whether she was exhausted by the stress of waiting or exhausted by grief, he did not yet know.

Ruth hugged him tight, burying her face in his neck, breathing him in like she sometimes did when she was upset. "He's awake," she finally said, her voice slightly muffled.

"Oh darling, that's wonderful news."

She pulled back slightly so she could speak. "Dad and I were there all day today. We got word that Edmund checked in, but thankfully he didn't come by. I was by myself all day yesterday, but at least they let me go in and sit with Grandfather. And today, finally, he woke up. He was groggy and weak, but he was able to see us and speak to us. The doctors say he'll be like that for quite a while. Dad called for Edmund so the two of them can discuss what sort of duties they'll have to take on and for how long. And I wanted to come home and tell you the news."

Harry pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm glad you did. I've missed you."

Ruth gave him a soft, tired smile. "Some honeymoon. I wasn't supposed to spend a moment without you for three weeks straight. But maybe it was for the best, I was afraid you'd start to get sick of me."

"I won't ever get sick of you, Ruth, that's why I wanted to marry you. And even if I ever do get sick of you, it'll take more than two weeks, I promise," he assured her. It seemed like an age now, since he and Ruth had been on their tropical yacht trip. It was almost a dream. They'd been jolted back to reality rather rudely through all this. But King Richard was alright. He was recovering, he was awake, and everything would be alright. Perhaps Harry could take Ruth on another vacation for their wedding anniversary.

"Ruth?"

She turned to see Graham standing out of the way and looking worried. "Yes, Graham?"

"Are you doing okay? Now that the king is awake, I mean?" he asked tentatively.

Ruth extricated herself from Harry's arms and hurried over to Graham, holding him tight. She kissed the top of his curly blonde hair. "Yes, Graham, I'm okay now. Thank you for asking. Thank you for being so wonderful."

Graham hugged her back. "We were worried about you."

"No need to worry about me. I'm fine. But thank you," she said, kissing him again.

"I love you, Ruth," Graham told her earnestly.

A slightly strangled sob escaped Ruth as she started to cry. "Oh I love you, too, Graham," she replied.

Harry came over and took them both in his arms. Ruth cried, he knew, out of relief and out of the depth of feeling from her stepson. And Harry just wanted to be there with them both, just for now. He and Graham stayed right there, holding Ruth, soothing her as she cried, not letting her go until she all alright again.


	33. Chapter 33

_Chapter Thirty-Three_

"Princess! Over here!"

Harry turned to see a photographer calling to Ruth and snap pictures. She was immediately startled by the flashing camera in her face. She froze and just stared. Harry immediately grabbed her arm, perhaps a bit roughly, and dragged her across the sidewalk and into the restaurant.

Once inside, she blinked back to reality. "Wh-what…?" she stammered.

"You've got to ignore them, Ruth," he told her gruffly. He let go of her arm and sighed sadly. "Tom'll take care of that one, but we can't just let these things continue."

Over the last month or so, there had been a sudden increase in press attention on Ruth and her family. King Richard was out of the hospital and back home at the palace, but he was monitored constantly by doctors and he was far too weak to conduct official business. And it was unlikely, the doctors said, that he would ever recover any more than he already had. As a result, the royal princes had taken up all of the king's duties between them. Given that Ruth's father was ill himself with his ongoing cancer treatments, Prince Edmund had taken on the brunt of things. It made sense, as he would be the next king. And that allowed Prince James's condition to remain private within the family.

The problem with all this, however, was that King Richard had a very strong hold over the press and keeping them from his family. Prince Edmund did not have the same sort of concerns. Edmund and Juliet, the cow, rather loved the attention. The press had been getting used to the new normal of having royals delighting in the constant photographs and public statements. They seemed think it applied to the entirety of the royal family. And that included Princess Louisa and her husband and his children.

Harry had seen Ruth be dogged by photographers nearly everywhere she went for the last few weeks. He had seen because he and Ruth went nearly everywhere together: to work, out to the theater or ballet, to restaurants, to the various palaces. Harry kept trying to tell her to ignore them, and she mostly did. Or rather he reminded her and she tried to keep her head down. But sometimes the caught her unawares and she got confused and distracted by their presence. Harry adored his wife more than anything, but she was absolutely useless when she was made the center of attention without warning like that. It was as though the flash went off in her face and her brain shut down. It had gotten to the point that Ruth had stopped going out by herself for the most part. Unless Harry went with her, she just stayed where she was. Tom was a fine bodyguard, but he was not really equipped to handle paparazzi; he couldn't very well protect Ruth and scare off photographers at the same time, so that latter duty seemed to have fallen to Harry for the most part.

In the whole time that Harry had known Ruth, he'd only seen her picture in the paper half a dozen times. But since they'd returned home from their honeymoon, it seemed they could not go two days without some deer in the headlights picture of her printed for all the world to see. Privately, Harry was a bit disappointed that she wasn't more photogenic. He found her beautiful always, and he knew that she could be the most radiantly attractive person in the world when the moment was right. He had made the comment once that she didn't much look like a princess in the papers, which matched the fact that she didn't much act like a princess in life. But Ruth's rather morose reaction had stopped those teasing comments for good. The fact that she was bothered by it was the most upsetting thing about the whole paparazzi mess.

"Come on, we're late to the party," Harry said, putting his hand on the small of her back and leading her through the restaurant and up the back staris.

She went with him willingly but it was clear to Harry that she was still feeling out of sorts. It pained him, seeing her go all sullen like this. This was supposed to be a fun evening and a rather important one at that. And if Ruth was going to be in this sort of mood, there was absolutely no chance that Harry would be able to enjoy himself. He was dreading this, but it was her influence that made him agree to it. Now he wished they could just turn around and go home.

But no. They arrived at the very full banquet table in the private back room of the restaurant. It was festively but elegantly decorated. And it was filled with noisy teenagers. One of them wore a plastic tiara and pink sash that read Birthday Girl in flowery white lettering. She stood up and hurried over. "There you are!" Catherine cried. She gave her father and stepmother each a big hug. And Ruth finally gave a very genuine smile.

"Happy birthday, Catherine," Ruth said, kissing her blonde hair.

Harry's smile and birthday wishes were a little forced, thanks to the onslaught of Catherine's friends who were getting a bit rowdy. To his eternal dismay, the guests at Catherine's sixteenth birthday were both girls and boys. He had been very ready to put his foot down as her father and to refuse any males but him and Graham to be present, but Ruth had instead put her foot down. It was Catherine's party, Ruth had reminded him, and Catherine and only Catherine should have full authority over the guest list. After all, he and Ruth were just there to pay for it.

Graham was sitting off in the corner, trying to ignore all of Catherine's friends. Some younger brothers might want to impress the friends of his older sister, but not Graham. He had friends of his own, and he was a bit snobbish over what he viewed as silly, shallow teenagers. Harry made a beeline to join his son to commiserate over their shared view. Ruth found a member of the waitstaff to order some things for them.

At last, Ruth was settled beside Harry. She had a glass of wine. He had a rather large pour of scotch. She'd ordered a seafood pasta dish and he had a chicken risotto. The room was loud with the talking and laughter of all of Catherine's friends. So long as no one broke anything—property or people—there was no problem with letting them have their fun. Harry and Ruth both kept quiet. It was too loud to carry on a conversation otherwise. He wanted to put a hand on her leg under the table, but given her earlier mood, he worried that might not be welcome. They'd have a talk later, surely, when they could sit together quietly away from all this chaos.

"Dad, can I have some?" Graham asked his father.

"Yes, fine," Harry replied without even turning to look at him.

Graham picked up Harry's glass and took a rather large swallow of scotch. "Graham!" Ruth exclaimed. Harry turned to look at her rather than his son and saw a look of utter shock on her face.

"Yes?" Graham asked calmly and curiously. Harry had to admit that Graham had a brilliant way about him of getting excited over good things and perhaps sometimes over worrisome things, but he was not one to rise quickly to anger, unlike Harry and Catherine. He wondered where his son had inherited that trait.  
Ruth turned to Harry. "Did you see what he just did?"

Harry was somewhat confused by her outrage, but he tried to keep calm as Graham had. "He asked for some of my drink and I said yes, so he took a sip," Harry said.

"He's fourteen!" she exclaimed. Thankfully the teenagers weren't paying a bit of attention or this might cause an embarrassing scene for Catherine.

"Yes, I'm aware of how old my son is, Ruth," Harry answered. Perhaps he was being a bit snide. But really, what was she getting so upset about?

"I cannot believe you let him drink your scotch. He's fourteen!" she repeated.

It had not occurred to Harry that Ruth had never actually seen Graham drink before. "Oh it's nothing to worry about, darling," he explained. "I let Catherine start drinking when she was fourteen, too."

"A glass of wine at dinner is very different than throwing back scotch, Harry," she countered.

But Harry just shrugged. "He's not having his own, not when we're in public. And he doesn't drink without asking. I think he's fine."

"I am fine, Ruth," Graham parroted, trying to reassure her.

Ruth opened her mouth to make another argument but shut it immediately.

Harry did not like that at all. "What were you going to say?" One of the things he had liked about her from the first was the way she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. At work, that was never a problem. She had no qualms about arguing with him when she had a difference of opinion. And at home, too, they had some rather spectacular fights when one or both of them got in a stubborn mood. And though he'd never really articulated it before, he did have a lingering fear as a result of his first marriage that if he and Ruth ever stopped fighting about things and instead kept opinions to themselves, that would spell the end for them. After all, with the absences and infidelity, Harry and Jane had just given up on each other. And that had been what led to the divorce more than anything else. He refused to have the same fate with Ruth.

She searched his face and sighed sadly. "It's none of my business how you parent your children, Harry. I'm not their mother and I've never tried to be. I'll stay out of it."

He wanted to respond, but before he could, a flash outside the window distracted him. The whole room got distracted. Because this banquet room was on the second floor of the restaurant. And there was a photographer in a tree taking pictures.

Some of the teenaged girls screamed. Ruth froze, as she often did. Catherine looked as though she were about to cry. Harry sprung into action. "Graham, get Tom," he shouted. "Ruth, go out in the hall where they can't see you. Catherine, tell your friends to shut up."

Graham thankfully took Ruth's hand and dragged her out of the room to safety. Harry tried to find curtains or something to cover the window but found nothing. He was left in full view of the camera as he shouted obscenities at that damned photographer. Oh the newspapers would just love this, Princess Louisa's unhinged husband.

"Dad, stop!" came a cry behind him.

He turned to see Catherine with tears streaming down her lovely face. One of her friends had an arm around her shoulder to comfort her. The rest were quiet and uncomfortable.

"Cat, I think maybe we'll go…" one of the boys said.

The look of heartbreak on his daughter's face sliced Harry to the quick. She didn't try to stop them. Though what could she really do? She was sixteen and her stepmother's station had brought ruin on her party.

By the time the teenagers started to file out, the photographer had been shaken out of the tree by Tom and the restaurant staff. Catherine just sat right down on the floor and started bawling her eyes out. For a moment, Harry was at a loss of what to do, but he gave in to the instinct to take his crying daughter in his arms. He sat on the floor and held her. She was so upset, she didn't even push him away.

Graham and Ruth came back in once the crisis had passed. It was just the four of them left. All of the guest had gone.

"Catherine, I'm so sorry," Ruth said softly.

Harry was nearly pushed over as Catherine whipped her head away from him and up to Ruth. She stared daggers and snarled, "It's all your fault!"

Ruth was left speechless, eyes wide and worried, mouth gaping as she struggled to find something to say. Harry wished he had a way to help her. But all of this was very much out of his depth. Things were changing for all of them, and they'd need to find a way to adapt. They just hadn't quite found it yet.


	34. Chapter 34

_Chapter Thirty-Four_

Loss is a strange thing to think about. It affects everyone differently. It affects lives in such unexpected ways. Ruth had experienced loss before. Her mother died when she was eleven. Her grandmother died when she was fifteen. And now, at age twenty-seven, she lost her grandfather.

King Richard had been the biggest figure in Ruth's life since the moment she was born. He was king, which meant that he was the most important person in the country. And due to that status, Ruth's life was precluded from being at all like anyone else's. She was photographed professionally from the time she was an infant. She had been given the best schooling. She had everything she could have ever asked for. Not that Ruth herself had ever really developed extravagant tastes like her grandparents or her uncle; but whatever Ruth wanted, it was provided to her.

But none of it meant anything to her, not really. Being a princess was a burden more than anything else. Ruth wanted to fade into the background and just be a normal person. She'd never really felt that until she met Harry. He never treated her specially because of her status, as everyone else did—even at her schools and at Army Intelligence, where she'd been allowed to live as normally as she could manage. Harry treated her specially because of who she was as Ruth, not as Princess Louisa and all the baggage that entailed.

Before Harry, Ruth's favorite and most important people had been her father and grandfather. Dad was warm and quiet and smart and kind, and she loved him more than anyone in the world. Grandfather, while also warm and smart and kind, had a power about him as king that shone in every aspect of his life. He had shown Ruth what royalty was really for, what the strength of a unifying leader can give to a country, what the importance of a figurehead was for their citizens as well as for international relations. King Richard ruled the country and its colonies fairly and decently, but his inner strength ensured that no one ever questioned his decisions. It was a strength Ruth had never really felt she possessed, for she was always so unsure and so terrified of making a mistake and being wrong and ruining things. It was why she'd never sought the spotlight and never wanted to be promoted above her station at work. She was good at what she did, she knew, but having someone higher up to defer to made it all a bit safer. The king did not have that luxury, and Ruth did not envy it.

All these thoughts filled her mind as she stood in the cathedral. The funeral was lavish and crowded and somber. In the front pew were Uncle Edmund—who was now King Edmund III—and his wife. Beside the new king was Ruth's father, Prince James. Ruth and Harry were just behind them. Graham and Catherine were beside Harry and behaving very well.

The service seemed to go on forever, and Ruth's attention drifted. Edmund would be giving a eulogy very soon, and she'd pay attention at that. But for now, she was lost in her thoughts. She wanted to think about her grandfather, how good he had been to her and how much she loved him. Though every time she really let herself think about how much he meant to her, she started crying again. It was a blessing she could wear the mourning veil to hide her red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Her breath hitched as she started to cry once more, and Harry subtly took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Oh Harry, what would she ever do without him? It had been one of the greatest joys of her life that Grandfather had gotten to know Harry and that the two liked each other so much. And Grandfather had gotten to know Graham and Catherine, just a little bit, and had doted on them as well. Apparently he had even made small provisions for his step-great-grandchildren in his estate. There were rules, of course, about royal testamentary bequests, but for what he did have the power to devise, the idea that he'd thought of Ruth's new family meant the world to her.

The congregation was asked to sit and the new king was invited to the pulpit. Ruth watched closely as her uncle went up with his notes and stood in front of the crowd. Though he'd been a bit brash and cavalier towards Ruth to cause her to avoid him when possible for most of her life, she could not deny that King Edmund carried the gravitas of a monarch. He'd known from the day he was born that this was the role he would fill. He'd been trained for it. And now the time was upon him.

"My friends and family, loyal citizens of our country, for all that our lives are different in so many ways, we are all of us in mourning for our sovereign. King Richard V was undoubtedly one of the greatest kings in our history. His strength helped us survive the horrors of the war and the terrible losses we sustained. His leadership expanded our colonial reach to bring prosperity and resources to our land.

"But even without these great triumphs, he would still be lauded as a great king for the simple reason that he was beloved. From radio and television addresses to visits all across the land, he showed his true gifts to all who encountered him. He was strong, but it was his kindness that gave him strength. He was powerful, but it was his good humor and shrewd intelligence that gave him power. I have been, I think, the luckiest man in all the world because this great man, this great king, was my father. In training me for the role that I now fill, I was fortunate to spend a great deal of time with him. I saw firsthand how seriously he took his duties. How he cared so deeply about the welfare of his people and the happiness of all he knew.

"He was a king, first and foremost, but he was a truly good man. He loved his family and took care of us all, both me and my brother, Prince James, as well as the king's only grandchild, Princess Louisa. In the last year of his life, when he was beset by illness and a weakness this great man had never before contemplated, he told me often that his family was his greatest personal achievement, and seeing how James and I have taken up our royal duties had made him so proud. And being alive to witness Princess Louisa grow into a woman and now a wife with a family of her own brought him his greatest joy.

"The whole world mourns a great king, and knowing he was so beloved is a comfort to me now. But I mourn my father, a great man. I hope that I can live up to the precedent he has set as I take his place. It is my birthright by the laws of our country that I am now your king, but I am sure I shall always feel that it is King Richard's crown that shall sit upon my head."

If it had been any occasion other than a funeral, Ruth would have applauded that speech. The words were from the heart, she knew, and Edmund delivered them beautifully. He was, already, a great king, and Ruth was proud of him.

King Edmund took his seat again and his wife took his hand. Ruth's good feeling left her, then, knowing that it was Queen Juliet who now stood in front of her. There would be no escape now from her. Until the day she died, she would be Queen Juliet. It was a title that Ruth felt sure, particularly based on Harry's experience with her in that past, that Juliet felt she was entitled to. She'd stolen her way up the rungs of the societal ladder to make herself queen. Edmund's tendency to defer to her might prove disastrous, even if he did have the makings of a great king. Ruth could only hope and pray that Juliet did not end up an evil queen.

The funeral ended soon after, and the family took their place in the last ceremonial task of tossing dirt over the king's casket where it was lowered into his place within the mighty cathedral. As was tradition, the order matched that of the succession. First King Edmund, then Prince James, then Princess Louisa. The spouses—Juliet then Harry—were given their chance after. Graham and Catherine were not invited to do the same, and they stayed back in the pew as Ruth and Harry went to pay their final respects.

As soon as it was done, Harry took Ruth's hand and led her and the children out to where Tom was waiting with the car. No one spoke at all, sensing that Ruth very much did not want conversation. Her whole heart felt numb with sadness and loss. And as they drove back, she rested her head on Harry's shoulder. Feeling him gently kiss her hair was a small comfort.


	35. Chapter 35

_Chapter Thirty-Five_

Ruth was relieved to arrive at work just after ten that morning. Royal duties had always exhausted her, but there was something different nowadays. Having Uncle Edmund as king was different. Despite the fact that everyone around him was the same as it had been with Grandfather, Edmund seemed determined to make his mark. The coronation had been arranged much faster than any in history. Rarely had a monarch been crowned within six months of acceding to the monarchy; Edmund had his coronation four months to the day from King Richard's death.

And now that he was king, he was trying to determine the familial division of labors. Before, the four royals—Grandfather, Uncle Edmund, Dad, and Ruth—each had their sphere of responsibility. Ruth's had always been the smallest both because she hated it and she was a lesser royal compared to the two princes. But now there were only three of them, and Dad had to be careful due to his illness and treatments. Queen Juliet, whose title still made Ruth want to wretch, did the things she liked and nothing more. She liked anything where she could dress up and be the center of attention. Ruth liked anything where she could be finished in an hour and have as little fuss as possible made for her.

Today, Ruth had been attending a meeting with the various advisors so the system could be reevaluated yet again. This was the fourth time in six months. Ruth was supposed to open a factory out in the countryside, but it was decided that Dad should take that one. The speech for the event would have to be rewritten now that the prince would be there. Ruth had instead been assigned to attend an anniversary performance for the ballet. Apparently Juliet didn't want to go once it had been decided that she would not be going onstage to give a speech. Ruth would gladly attend the performance and be taken backstage to meet the company and pose for a photo. And, even better, Harry would be allowed to go with her for that. They'd always had a nice time at the ballet before. Perhaps she could find something really beautiful to wear that he might like to see her in. They'd been married almost three years now, and Ruth felt slight pressure to keep things interesting and exciting between them.

But now that it had all been decided, she could finally go into work for the day. She had a mountain of reports to review before she could summarize them for Harry. The delay in her morning was certainly an inconvenience.

Ruth left Tom outside the door to Foreign Intelligence as always. She hung up her coat on the rack and left her purse by her desk before going straight into Harry's office.

He looked up as soon as she entered. "Hello, darling," he greeted sweetly. "You're lucky I love you or I'd be annoyed by the unannounced interruption."

"Do you really want me to start knocking on your door?" Ruth laughed.

"I doubt you'd be able to develop the habit at this point. It's been, what, six years since we started working together?"

"Something like that."

Harry just hummed and stood up from his chair. He gave a big stretch before crossing over to kiss her.

"Been busy today?" she asked. She smiled as Harry wrapped her in his arms and held her there. There was a time when she would have been mortified by such an action in at work, especially when the blinds were open in his office. But now, they were settled and married, and everyone knew it. They still worked just as well as they always had. Better, even.

He rested his forehead against hers, like he sometimes did when he was feeling a bit weary. "Glued to my desk for the last three hours," he told her.

"Poor love," she soothed, running her fingers through his hair. She was noticing that he might possibly be starting to thin, but he was over forty, and that gorgeous thick head of curly hair of his was not likely to last forever. Ruth would just have to enjoy it as long as she could.

Harry pulled back somewhat suddenly. "I'll never get back to work if you keep that up," he chided lightly.

Ruth just smiled and made sure his hair was put back in place. "I'm sorry."

He just waved off her apology and changed the subject. "Did you get things sorted at the palace? Or do you have to go back and do it all again in another ten days or whatever?"

She appreciated his understanding. It was more helpful than she could ever possibly say to have her husband there to commiserate with her on the annoyance of royalty. He felt just as she did: the monarchy was to be respected as an institution and never mocked or belittled, but the pomp and circumstance of it all was quite an exhausting hassle for those of them who did not want to be in the spotlight.

Ruth opened her mouth to tell him about the ballet, but the event wasn't for another three days. And they could discuss that at home. She wanted to tell him something that might actually interest him more than another event they would be required to attend.

"Things were sorted. But when I got there, you'll never guess what I overheard."

"What?" he asked, his eyes alight with intrigue.

"Edmund and Juliet were having a fight. Apparently he's been getting pressure from the various advisors about producing an heir. And she's not to keen to have children. Though I don't think that really surprises anyone," Ruth said.

Harry frowned. His brow furrowed in consternation.

"What?" she prompted.

"Well, I wonder…they've been married for how long?"

"Eight years." In all fairness to Edmund and his advisors, that was a long time to be married without having any children.

He hummed. "I have a vague recollection of something she said to me once, all those years ago…"

Ruth felt her own countenance go dark. She did not enjoy being reminded that her husband had once had a torrid, awful affair with Juliet. She had come to accept that he'd had affairs with lots of people. Juliet was the one she still could not get over. Ruth just tried not to think about. "Recollection of what?" she asked, her tone flat.

"Well she threatened her father with getting pregnant out of wedlock with me, but I seem to recall she told me that it wouldn't happen but her father didn't know that."

"Do you think she was taking precautions?"

"Oh I'm certain she was. But I don't know if perhaps those precautions had…lasting effects."

That was certainly something to be concerned about, for Ruth in particular. "Harry, if Juliet can't have children…Harry, he only married her because she was young and could produce heirs!"

"Well hopefully she's just being obstinate and is still able to conceive. She's still young enough for it."

Ruth sighed. "And if she can't, hopefully he finds out and he can…I don't know, find someone else? I don't actually know how divorce works for the monarch. I don't know if it's ever been an issue before." Suddenly the issue of Juliet's fertility was extremely important to her. "Harry, if she can't have children, there won't be an heir to the throne."

"And what would that mean?"

"It would mean that Dad becomes the next king. And after him would be me." Now there was a horrifying thought. Ruth was not born to be queen. Ruth did not want to be queen. Not in the least. The very idea of it made her vaguely sick.

Harry could see that Ruth was getting herself a bit worked up. He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her forehead. "This is nothing to worry about. Not yet, darling. Edmund's only just become king. He's what, fifty?"

"Dad'll be fifty next month. Edmund's fifty-two," she corrected.

"Alright, well, Juliet's only thirty-three. Neither of them is too old. Doctors can help Juliet conceive, I'm sure. Medicine's come a long way. They'll have a child soon enough and Edmund will reign for another thirty years at least, and then his child will be the next king or queen. There is nothing for you to worry about, Ruth," he said comfortingly.

Only she didn't feel comforted. "But what if they don't have children?"

"Why don't we tackle that particular unlikelihood when it becomes a reality, alright?"

Ruth buried her face in Harry's neck and groaned in frustration. He just chuckled at her fit of petulance.

"Come on, you've got reports to review, don't you?" he reminded.

She had forgotten about work almost entirely. "Yes, I do. I'd better go do that." She pulled back and kissed him one last time. "I'll see you later. And by the way, we're going to the ballet on Friday."

"Are we?"

"Yes, it's the fiftieth anniversary and I've been assigned that royal task. I assumed you'd like to join me."

"Are you going to wear the burgundy dress?" he teased.

"I think you know the answer to that," she replied, daring him to ask her to wear it. That particular gown no longer got to see the light of day. Now that Ruth had photographers following her everywhere, she could not get away with such things. And not to mention she'd gotten a bit fat in married life and she doubted if the burgundy dress would even fit her anymore.

Harry smiled. "You look beautiful in anything you wear."

Ruth laughed, "My husband the clever charmer."

"I don't care what I am, Ruth, just so long as I'm a good husband to you."

"You are," she reassured him. "But right now you're being a terrible boss, keeping me distracted from my work."

"Alright, out with you," he said, dismissing her and sitting back down at his desk.

Ruth crossed to the door and paused, looking back at him one more time. He looked back with that beautiful besotted look on his fact that she loved so much. And she felt that everything would somehow be alright.


	36. Chapter 36

_Chapter Thirty-Six_

Once more, as she did every Sunday, Ruth sat in the back of the car as Tom drove her out to the countryside to Leister Palace. It was only about a half hour each way. Sometimes she brought things to work on in the car, like in the leadup to the wedding when Catherine had given her reams of pages to review and approve, but usually Ruth just liked to be alone with her thoughts in the quiet. Watching the scenery go by was a privilege, she felt. The roads and trees and hills and little houses of her country were all so beautiful. She was proud than she could say that this land was her home. She had always felt that she belonged here, but in the times she'd spent with Grandfather and hearing his views on the monarchy, Ruth had also developed a sense of responsibility to her country as well. And on these Sunday trips out to Leister, she took the opportunity to appreciate it.

Dad was not in treatment today, so they were able to have lunch in the dining room and have a nice chat. He was in a funny sort of mood. Contemplative in a way Ruth had not often seen him.

"How do you think Edmund is doing?" he asked.

Ruth thought before she answered. "Well, I think," she replied. "He had rather big shoes to fill, and he knows it. He seems to have let go a lot of the arrogance I've seen in him before. Which I think is surprising. I don't know how many men in his position would actually gain more power and actually learn humility from the experience."

Dad smiled. "My dad was the same, actually. He became king when Edmund and I were about Graham and Catherine's ages. A bit younger. But even that young, we both knew our father was a bit of a prick."

She laughed in surprise at her father's words. But Dad was like that. Surprising in his candor.

"But I think you're right," he said. "Edmund seems to be doing alright. It's a difficult job that I don't think either of us envy in the least. He's finding his way, though. The first year must be the hardest, but it's been almost a whole year since the coronation, so I have no doubt he'll be just fine."

Ruth agreed with that. "And how are you doing with everything? The new division of duties and your treatments and such?"

"Oh I'm fine," he answered, waving off her concern. "You know I don't do too much. Edmund's good about leaving me be. And having a queen to do things is quite a help. Keeps you and me from having to do too much, since Edmund and Juliet are so eager."

"And the treatments?"

"Just fine, dear," he assured her. "I'll never be cured, of course. And I will certainly have a less than average life expectancy. But I'm not in any more discomfort that I've been in the last two years. Things aren't getting worse. Everything is just fine."

Ruth nodded. "Good, I'm glad. I worry, sometimes, not just with the cancer but just with you being out here all by yourself all the time."

He chuckled and took her hand, kissing the back of it. "You don't need to be concerned about me, dear. I get to see you every week, which I love. And when I'm in the capital, I can come by and see you and Harry and the children. Besides, it's not as though I am alone. There's a house full of cooks and maids and nurses and gardeners and guards. And since it's just me they work for, I get to spend a bit more time with them. There's a few of the maids who I invite to join me for dinner on occasion. One of the gardeners plays a very good game of chess. And I trade book recommendations with the head housekeeper. Many of them have families of their own, I know, but they're good friends to me while they're here."

"That's wonderful, Dad. I'm happy to hear it."

"Sometime when you're here, I should introduce you to some of them. Since they'll be working for you one of these days."

She was taken aback by that. "What? What do you mean?"

"Well, by birthright, you are the Princess of Leister. You'll inherit this palace," Dad explained.

Ruth's eyes went wide. She knew that, of course. She understood how the inheritance and the monarchy worked. She knew her own title and all that it entailed. But when she'd left home all those years ago—more than a decade ago, in fact—she had never really expected to return. That palace was her childhood home but it wasn't home any longer. The Pearce manor, that was her home now. Harry's house with his children. Her family lived there.

"You don't have to live here," Dad said, seeing how visibly discomfited she was. "You can always just leave it as a vacation home or close it up or even open it for public tours. Other countries do that with their royal residences, I understand."

That was an even worse idea to Ruth's mind. The idea of strangers inside her home? Unacceptable. "I don't…I don't know," she stammered. "I honestly hadn't thought about it. And I suppose I just hate the idea of you not being here."

"Well, that's a long way off, dear, I promise," he assured her with a smile.

Ruth rested her hand on his arm and gave it a small squeeze. "Good."

"Now, tell me about how Catherine's exams went," Dad prompted.

She smiled. Catherine had just finished school and would be attending university in the fall. She had been admitted into the same prestigious school that both Ruth and Harry had gone too. Ruth was actually the first royal to have a proper university degree, a benefit of being a lesser royal and therefore not required to have private tutors. And now Catherine would get to have the same wonderful experience learning from some of the best renowned scholars in the country and the whole world.

But before she could go to university, Catherine had to pass all her final exams. She was a bright girl and a hard worker; Graham had more natural intellect than his sister but tended to be a bit lazy at times, particularly as he grew. Catherine was an absolute star, though. She was dedicated to her work, whatever it was. And she'd been quite serious about her studying these last few months. Ruth had often showed up at Leister Palace for Sunday lunch with stories of Catherine being a little nightmare tyrant all through the house, screaming at anyone who interrupted her or was too loud when she was trying to study. Ruth had been glad to escape the house during all that. Harry had even gone with her to see Dad a time or two, just to be out of Catherine's line of fire. Thankfully it was all over now.

"She did brilliantly," Ruth said proudly. "She's still waiting on results for a couple of them, but she got perfect marks on her civics exam."

Dad chuckled, "Is that maybe because she lives a civics lesson with her stepmother every day?"

Ruth blushed slightly. "Well, I did help her study for that one."

"Well, good on her. When she gets all her grades back, we should have a little celebration for her here. If you think she would like that."

"I think Catherine would really like that. Thank you, Dad."

A swift knock on the door to the parlor where they were sitting interrupted them. Dad bid entry to whoever was there. The woman who came in was one of the housekeepers, though Ruth was sad to say she did not know her name. She was beautiful, though. Probably just slightly older than Ruth. Short dark hair and olive skin and exquisite features. Though those features were somewhat contorted into a very upset expression.

"What is it, Fiona?" Dad asked.

"I have a message for you, sir," she said with a slight hitch in her voice.

Dad frowned and gave Ruth a look. "I'll be back," he told her.

She watched as he went out to speak with Fiona. There was hushed but fervent conversation. Fiona then bowed and hurried off and Dad returned to the parlor. He was pale and looked to be in some kind of shock. "Dad?" Ruth asked worriedly. "What's happened?"

"You…you'll be living here sooner than expected, dear," he said in a somewhat strangled voice.

"What?"

"I…I'll have…I'll have to move to the capital…" He was blinking rapidly, holding off tears. He swallowed hard and then looked right at Ruth. "Edmund died."

Ruth gasped sharply. "What!? How?!"

"They don't…they don't know. He complained of a headache and went to lie down and Juliet found him and…"

There would be a lot for them to think about later and plenty more for Ruth to worry about, but she knew what this meant. She knew what had happened. She stood up and crossed to her father and bowed in the manner she'd always been taught. "Long live the king, Your Majesty," she said, trying not to cry.

Dad gave a strangled sound between a laugh and a sob. He lifted Ruth from her bow and pulled her into his arms. The both of them began to weep.


	37. Chapter 37

_Chapter Thirty-Seven_

Harry was pleased, not for the first time, that he was not proper royalty. This whole charade was the second he'd witnessed in as many years. The children were at home with Malcolm—not that they needed watching at ages eighteen and sixteen—and Harry envied them. He did not wish this fate on anyone, and having them be here and struggling to keep civil would make it even worse.

But long gone were the days that Harry could avoid things just because he didn't want to do them. He was a husband and father, and that required some sacrifice on his part to serve both roles well. At the moment, he was trying to be a good husband. Easier said than done today. But as annoying as this whole thing was, he knew there was nowhere else he could possibly be right now.

He was in the audience observing the coronation of King James V. Ruth's father was the fifth of his name just as Ruth's grandfather, King Richard, had been the fifth of his name. That felt like a good omen. King Richard V had reigned for forty years. King James V would not reign as long, everyone knew, but hopefully he'd be more successful than his predecessor.

In the most tragic accident of nature that no one could have ever expected, King Edmund III, Ruth's uncle and the rightful heir to the crown, had died suddenly of an aneurysm just shy of fourteen months as king. He had complained of headache and gone to lie down. When Juliet checked on him about an hour later, she found him dead and cold already. Queen Juliet was a widow, and the king had died childless. The line of succession meant that his younger brother, James, became king.

And so here they were, a few months later, seeing another coronation. This one was much more important than the last, however, for the sheer reason that Ruth was intimately involved. She was next in line, and there was no getting away from it. Ruth was going to be queen when her father died. And with his illness, the odds were that she'd accede within just a few years. The doctors had given him a life expectancy of another ten years, but that was when everyone assumed he could keep to himself and live a rather stress-free life. Being king did not allow that luxury.

Ruth had been out of her mind with worry for months and months. She worried about how her father would cope with the unexpected responsibilities thrust upon him. She worried about how his illness would be affected and if or when the truth of it would be revealed to the public. She worried about being available to assist him however he would need—unlike her grandfather, King James did not have sons and a granddaughter to shoulder some of the burden, and unlike her uncle, King James did not have a wife to assist him. Ruth was all her father had, and she did not even entertain the notion that it was not up to her to take on anything and everything he needed.

It also did not help that the various advisors, after having brought into the confidence of the family in knowing about the king's cancer, knew that Ruth would be doing all these same things before they knew it. She needed to be around to absorb as much as she could.

Within three weeks of her uncle's death, Ruth had approached Harry at work. She came into his office—without knocking, of course—and closed the blinds for their privacy. He had a feeling he knew what she wanted to say, but he'd let her broach it in her own way.

"Harry, I don't know what to do," she began.

"About what, darling?" he asked in return. He usually did not use such terms while they were working, but he could not bear to see her so nervous and upset.

Ruth sat in a chair in front of his desk. She was wringing her hands and bouncing her leg anxiously. "I don't take this lightly. I know you know that, but I need to say it anyway."

"Don't take what lightly?"

"This job," she said. "I love this job. I do good work here. Important work. I know I do. I know what we do is important. And I know I'm good at it, and my role is important."

"Of course it is. I wouldn't have kept you on if you weren't good and important in this work." He hoped she knew that. He hoped she understood how brilliant and talented she was, aside from the fact that he loved her. Yes, she was his wife. But he did not keep her in the office because he liked seeing his wife at work. If she weren't good at this, he would have made a gentle suggestion that perhaps she might do something else. That wasn't the case at all. He needed her here. And despite his gentle demeanor, he was gripped with a bit of anxiety of his own.

Ruth ran a shaky hand through her hair. "God, this is harder than I thought," she said with a nervous laugh.

"It's alright, Ruth," he said softly. He wished he could pull her into his arms, but he needed to remember where they were and maintain a bit of decorum. "You can tell me anything," he assured her.

"I think I need to step back. I…I have to be around to help Dad. I never thought I'd ever have to quit my job for the sake of the crown, but we didn't expect any of this, did we?"

"No, certainly not," he answered. And wasn't that the truth? If he had thought that Ruth would be queen, would he have married her? Well, if he'd known she'd be queen one day, he probably would not have pursued her to begin with. But he had, and he'd fallen in love with her, and he'd had no choice but to marry her. And their vows had said for better or worse, and her heightened royal status was, in both their eyes, for worse.

"I don't want to go. But I've got to. He's tried to tell me it's alright, that he can handle it, and maybe he can, but Harry, what if he can't? What if something happens? What if he pushes himself too far and…well, I'm going to be queen sooner or later, and since we've all spent twenty-eight years assuming I wouldn't be queen, I don't know what I'm doing!"

"It's alright, Ruth. I understand. If you think you can work part time, maybe two days a week even, I think we can start transitioning your duties here to someone else. We can come up with a short list and figure it out. Do you think that would be alright?"

"I wish I could just stay…"

"But you can't. I think I understand that better than most people."

"Do you?"

"Ruth, I sleep next to you every night. You think I don't know how hard this is for you?"

She stood up from her chair, still trying to blink back tears and succeeding for the moment. She crossed to where he was and folded herself into his lap. Harry just held her tight. They stayed like that, quiet and cuddling, for a little while.

And so Ruth had stepped back from work, only coming in three days a week in order to start training her replacement, Erin, to be Harry's right hand. It was already strange not having Ruth there with him. It was lonely for Harry, lonely to be without his best friend and true right hand. But Erin was a quick learner and very eager to prove her worth. Harry could already see her ambition. More than likely, she hoped to take Harry's position when he eventually left it. But that wouldn't be for a long time. At least he hoped it wouldn't be for a long time.

Harry's mind was brought back to the present as he watched what Ruth had told him would be the most important part of the coronation. She picked up the enormous bejeweled crown from where it sat on a pillow and carried it to where her father sat on the throne as the Leader of the Legislature recited the ancient words of coronation. "I present unto all subjects of the land James Charles Alexander George, the undoubted King of House Everard. Wherefore all shall do homage and service to the King. Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of the land, domestic and colonial alike and all possessions and other territories of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?"

Ruth was standing next to the Leader with the crown as she waited for the oaths, just as they had practiced. King James answered in a strong, regal tone, "I solemnly promise to do so."

"Will you to your power cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?"

"I will."

"And will you do the utmost in your power to maintain and preserve the freedom and dignity of all those over whom you rule? Will you pledge your oath to them as their king as they shall to you as your subjects?"

Harry noticed the king sit up a little straighter in the throne. And the words he spoke, while in accordance to custom, rang truer from his lips than they had from his brother. It gave Harry chills.

"All this I promise to do. The things which I have here before promised and pledged, I will promise and keep, from now until my dying day."

The Leader gave a small nod, and Ruth carried the crown to her father and placed in securely on his head. She stepped back and bowed deeply. In a rather small, reverent voice, she said, "Long live the king." She then pressed a kiss to his cheek and stepped back to return to her place.

All the other nobles and every Member of the Legislature proceeded to pay their homage to the new king. Through it all, Harry just watched Ruth. He'd never before seen an exact blend of pride and terror in all his life. To Harry's dismay, he was rather certain she'd feel exactly that for the entire reign of King James. After all, she loved and respected her father, and he would make a wonderful king. But he was ill, and he would not last long. And Ruth was next.


	38. Chapter 38

_Chapter Thirty-Eight_

"I still don't see why me and Malcolm can't just stay at the house," Graham grumbled.

"You could, I suppose, but I want you to live under the same roof as me until you go off to university. It's selfish, but I'm your father, and that's my right for giving you life," Harry replied with a heavy dose of snark.

"Ruth would have let me stay at home and at my school," he muttered.

Harry had to admit that Graham was right about that. Only a week earlier, she had come to him in his study while he was packing up his library and suggested that maybe just for the two years until Graham finished school, he could stay where he was and come up to see them on the weekends. She was feeling horribly guilty about having to interrupt all their lives, but Harry was adamant. And he told Graham, "Ruth's having a hard enough time with all of this. You really want to punish her more by having you not live with us? She loves you very much, Graham, and your piss-poor attitude is not helpful."

Graham stormed off, then. Harry let him go. He could be grumpy and moody all he wanted, just so long as he didn't make things harder for Ruth.

"I'll look after him, Harry," Malcolm said, coming up behind them with one of his suitcases.

"Thank you. I wouldn't think he needed much looking after at sixteen years old, but this is all going to be a bit of an adjustment for all of us," Harry replied.

Adjustment was putting it mildly. Now that King James V had settled inside the palace in the capital and vacated Leister, it was time for Ruth, as Princess of Leister, to take her rightful place in her ancestral home. She had certainly been of two minds about it, knowing that she was supposed to live there and keep up the estate and such. With all the upheaval with having three kings in the last two years, the stability of keeping Leister Palace properly occupied and following along with tradition was good for the family and for the country. But leaving the capital meant their lives would all change. Harry's commute to work had increased significantly. Ruth would be cutting down to only once a week. Graham had to change schools and all his friends were an hour away. Ruth had been fretting about all this for months, but they could not delay the inevitable. Catherine was off at university now. Leister Palace had been made ready for new occupants. It was time to move in.

Harry took one of his own suitcases while the servants were unloading boxes from trucks around the back. He walked up the front drive to the grand entrance to Leister Palace. He'd have to work at thinking of this place as home. Right now, it felt far too grand to ever be considered homey.

"Look who's here!" Ruth exclaimed as soon as Harry walked inside.

He smiled to see King James standing there with his arm around his daughter's waist. "Welcome home, Sir Harry."

Harry tried to keep from grumbling over that title. Now everyone he met would call him Sir Harry, thanks to the increased visibility of Ruth's elevated position. Ah well. He'd carry on. "I thought you didn't live here anymore," Harry teased his father-in-law.

"Thought I could come see if I could help you settle in. Give a tour and make some introductions if you like," he offered with a smile.

"That's very kind of you, Your Majesty."

"Oh Christ, not you too!" the king lamented. He, like his daughter, had never put much stock in royal formalities.

They all laughed at that. Harry and King James embraced warmly. The king led Harry and Ruth through the palace and introduced them to the various staff members along the way.

"Now, Ruth was born here and she knows it better than anyone. But since all my personal things and the medical equipment has all been removed, you can make it your own. Don't let her tell you where things are supposed to be, Harry, because its your house now and there's no place anything is supposed to be," James cautioned.

Harry had already been contending with that particular stubbornness in his wife. They'd talked about the bedroom they'd take as their own and she had balked very strongly against being in the room that had belonged to her parents when she was young. Thankfully, they'd been able to instruct for the décor to be changed enough that the room would be practically unrecognizable to Ruth.

"Ah, Adam, come meet your new protectees," James said, waving over a very tall man with a strangely handsome face and blonde hair. "Harry, Ruth, this is Adam Carter, Head of Security for Leister Palace. He'll be assigning each of you personal guards. And you can't boss him around, Ruth, because he only answers to the Head of the Royal Guard, who in turn only answers to me. You're both much more important now, so you do what Adam says."

Adam came over and shook both Harry and Ruth's hands. "It's really nice to meet you. We're all sorry to see King James leave here, but I'm looking forward to getting to know you and your family."

"Poor Adam's just had me to contend with all these years. Now he's got a married couple and children."

"I'd like to have a meeting with you both sometime tomorrow, after you get a little settled, to discuss the protection detail for the four of you," Adam said.

Ruth frowned. "The four of us?"  
"We already have an officer at the university with Catherine Pearce. Our officer, Beth Bailey, blends in with the students there so Catherine isn't singled out. I'll want to introduce the rest of you to your bodyguards."

"Harry, did you know about this?"

He nodded. "The Head of the Royal Guard called me a couple weeks before Catherine left for school to let me know."

"And you didn't tell me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't think of it. She needs protection just like the rest of us. I trust the Royal Guard, Ruth, as should you."

Harry could see that expression on Ruth's face. She wanted to argue more, despite the fact that he was precisely correct. She didn't like it, though, and she wanted to challenge him at every point to see if there was a hole in the logic anywhere. But he'd have that to look forward to later, he was sure. Ruth got another idea in her head. She turned to Adam and asked, "What about Tom?"

"Tom Quinn has been reassigned to Queen Juliet's team. The palace has had to reorganize the structure after the abrupt change in monarchy," Adam explained.

Well, that was certainly one way of putting it, Harry conceded. And privately, he was not sorry to see Tom go. He'd been the only security officer assigned to Ruth and the rest of the family after they got married. He was perfectly good at what he did, but Harry had never liked him much. And now, of course, they needed a whole team. That would certainly be tedious. But keeping the future monarch and her family safe was serious business, and Harry would do his best not to complain too much.

"Fiona, come meet the family," King James called.

A very beautiful woman with short dark hair and olive skin approached them. She wore a uniform but it was a bit distorted from her distended stomach. She, like Adam, shook both Harry and Ruth's hands and greeted them warmly. "I'm Fiona Carter, I'm the head housekeeper. Anything you need in the palace or the estate, I'm here for you."

"Carter…" Harry began.

Adam put his hand on Fiona's back affectionately. "We're married," he explained. "And as best we know, that's mine, too." He pointed to Fiona's very pregnant belly, and she elbowed him with a laugh.

"Oh congratulations!" Ruth said. "It'll be lovely to have a baby in the house."

"Before you get too worried, our quarters are on the other side from yours. You won't get woken up by crying," Adam said. Harry was glad. He'd been about to ask the same thing.

"And maybe the Carter baby will get a playmate sometime soon," King James suggested.

Ruth's eyes went wide and she started chewing on her lips, deep in anxious thought. Christ, that was another thing to discuss later. Harry dreaded the moment he and his wife were left alone.

But the tour did not linger too long. King James took them to what would be the master suite for Harry and Ruth. Most of their suitcases were already piled in there to be unpacked. They then went up to the third floor to where one of the extra bedrooms had been chosen for Graham—where he'd already settled in with a book on his new bed and told them to leave him be—and another for Catherine.

They wandered the grounds where they stopped by the guest cottage, though it was more like another complete house than a cottage, where Malcolm was setting up his new residence. That had been tricky for Harry. Malcolm was technically staff as the Pearce family butler, but his role was more expansive than just being a live-in servant, as he took meals with the family and was a part of almost everything they did. After discussing with the king, Harry and Malcolm had decided that Malcolm would be Sir Harry's personal secretary, managing his royal duties and such. Harry was loathe to agree to having royal duties, but if it eased the burden off the king and Ruth, he'd step up and do what needed to be done.

Ruth had a secretary as well to attend to her expanded royal role. Sam Buxton was a bright, enthusiastic girl. More energetic than Ruth, but the two of them got on very well. And Sam did a lot to relieve Ruth's royal-related stress. Hopefully Malcolm would get on with her as well, since the two of them would likely be working together quite closely in the future. For the foreseeable future, actually.

Harry Pearce had lived much of his life being sent around the world and calling strange places 'home' for however long he was there. In a lot of ways, moving to Leister Palace felt quite a bit like that. But this was not temporary. And that fact was rather hard to get his head around. This was his life now. Until Ruth became queen, this was where they would live. God willing, that would still be a long ways off. Harry would have to get used to this in the meantime.


	39. Chapter 39

_Chapter Thirty-Nine_

In the four years they'd been married, Harry could not recall having a fight like this with his wife. Ruth was, without exception, an intelligent and rational person. She could see all the sides of an argument. She might have a differing opinion, but she always knew where Harry was coming from. It had been that way at work from the start. It was like that at home, too. But this was practically unhinged. He'd never seen her like this before. And he did not care for it a single bit.

"God dammit, Ruth! Would you just listen to me!?" he shouted, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair as he stood up to pace angrily.

She sat there in her own chair, her legs curled up to her chest. She looked so young and fragile like that. But her eyes were full of fire and her fists were clenched in a way that let him know that she was anything but delicate right now. If he pushed her any further, she might leap up and tackle him to the ground with a feral screech.

Ruth did not say anything as Harry tried to calm himself down. He was getting himself far too worked up, he knew. But why couldn't she understand what she was asking? Why was she being so insistent? This was not a decision to take lightly.

He sat down on the edge of the table across from where she was sitting. With a heavy sigh, he rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. His hair was thinning more and more every day, it seemed. Yet another reason for this whole situation to give him pause.

"I just want to discuss this, Ruth," he said quietly.

"There is nothing to discuss, Harry," she answered coldly.

Harry looked over to her with slight shock. She was being…well, she was being heartless. That was not something he'd ever expected from her before. It took everything in him to keep from flying into a rage once again. But they'd been at this for hours. Days. This had to be the end of it. "Explain," he directed. It had worked in Foreign Intelligence, when Ruth got a bee in her bonnet that he did not quite agree with. She would be insistent and he would force her to explain herself, to convince him to her side, to prove her point.

"We have to conceive a child," Ruth said. "My father is king. I'll be queen after him. He's not well, Harry, you know he won't last long. I am the crown princess of this country. I need to produce an heir. Edmund and Juliet failed to do that. They were married for seven years before he became king, and they wasted that time. We cannot do that. We have to have a child."

He did his best to be patient, but she'd said all this before. This was not anything he did not already know. "I understand that. I know we have to have a child to be your successor. But I still fail to see why you are so insistent that it has to be right now."

Ruth regarded him curiously. "When do you think we should start trying for children, Harry?" she asked. "I mean, we've been together all this time and I've never even had an inkling that I might be pregnant. We haven't bothered with any sort of preventative measures since we started living together when we were engaged. Neither of us is getting any younger. I don't know why you think we have any other choice but to focus our efforts now."

At least she was calmer now. She was saying useful things. Harry felt a bit of a fool. More than a bit. In all likelihood, it was his fault they hadn't had children already. After all, he was over forty. Ruth was still plenty young. "Well, one of us is a bit over the hill for children," he grumbled.

"Harry, I'll be thirty in just a few months. You realize my mother had me when she was twenty-one? And Jane was what, twenty-four when she had Catherine? Twenty-six when she had Graham? I'm well beyond anyone thinking I'd be a young mother. And that's the thing too, Harry. Can you imagine what would happen if my father died while I was pregnant? Never mind the trauma that might cause to me and an unborn baby, but how am I supposed to go through childbirth and planning a coronation at the same time? Right now, Dad is still…well, he's not _well_, but he's alright. How much longer do you think that will last? I mean honestly, Harry, I am scared to death of knowing my dad is going to die sooner rather than later, but that's the reality of it. He's got cancer and the most stressful job in the world and more likely than not, he is going to die sooner rather than later. I know we need to produce and heir, but I just…" Tears were forming in her eyes and her voice cracked.

"You just what, darling?" Harry asked softly.

"I just want to be a mother before I have to be a queen. I won't be able to do much parenting with a crown, Harry. And it's not fair. It's just not fair! It's not fair that we can't have the life we wanted, that we won't get to take our time with any of this. I don't even know if…" She trailed off, tears streaming down her face.

Harry could not take it after that. He could not bear to see her so distraught, so full of the pressures of this life. These were not things she should have ever had to worry about. She was right, it wasn't fair. But it was the reality of their situation, and they'd both have to cope with it as best they could.

He pulled her up out of the chair and sat in her place, folding her up in his lap so he could hold her properly. Ruth buried her face in his neck, shaking with her sobs.

"Shh, it's alright, Ruth," he soothed. Of course, it might not be alright. They both knew that. Neither was naïve enough to be optimistic anymore. Not after all that had happened in the last three years.

Eventually Ruth stopped crying and got her breathing back under control. "I'm sorry," she murmured hoarsely.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he told her, rubbing her back affectionately.

"Yes there is. It's my fault that we had to move here, that I'll have to be queen, that we're forced to have children."

Well, that was true. But it didn't mean she needed to be sorry for it. Harry had decided a long time a got that a whole manner of unpleasantries would be bearable if he could be with her. And he was. And he would be till the day he died. Even if it wasn't exactly how they thought it would be. "You know," he realized, "I didn't even know you…" Harry stopped himself, realizing that might not be the best thing to say.

"Didn't know what?" she asked, prompting him to continue.

He hesitated, trying to think of another way out. There wasn't one. "I didn't even know you wanted children," he confessed. But he tried to soften the statement. "We never talked about it. Having children of our own. We just…well, we were more concerned with the children I've already got. I didn't really think I'd have any more than Catherine and Graham, honestly."

Ruth was quiet for a moment, chewing her lips. Harry was starting to panic, hoping beyond hope he did not upset her any further with that statement. "You're right," she finally said. "I didn't think of it. I was young when we first started up together. And I was more concerned with Catherine and Graham than with having any of my own. They're not mine, I know, but I love them just as much. And I think…if I had the choice…I might be happier with just them. Just the four of us."

"But you don't have a choice," Harry synthesized.

She sighed and snuggled against him. "No," she agreed. "I don't have a choice."

Harry pressed a kiss to her mussed hair. "Can I tell you something though?" he whispered.

"Of course," she answered.

He smiled and said, "You are going to be a wonderful mother. You're going to be so beautiful when you're pregnant. And we'll have a marvelous time getting you pregnant. And our son or daughter is going to be the most brilliant, gorgeous, incredible little thing."

Ruth's face broke into a happy grin, too, warming Harry's heart. "You think?"

"Not a single doubt in my mind," he assured her.

She tilted her head up to kiss him. And then they started trying to get Ruth pregnant.


	40. Chapter 40

_Chapter Forty_

It was late by the time Ruth got in the car to go home. She was utterly exhausted. She'd missed dinner with Harry and Graham. She never liked to do that. There hadn't been anything for it today. And, in fact, she hadn't seen Harry since he got out of bed early to go to work himself this morning. She needed to talk to him, but she was just so bloody tired. Maybe leave it till tomorrow.

She rested her head on the back of the seat of the car and closed her eyes, wishing the drive out to Leister from the capital wasn't so long.

"Would you like the radio, ma'am?"

Ruth sighed, not bothering to sit up or open her eyes. "Dimitri, I beg you to call me Ruth, please." She liked her new bodyguard. She really did. He was much friendlier than Tom, much more pleasant to be around. And he was highly trained, a member of Special Forces before joining the Royal Guard. Since Ruth was the heir to the crown, she got the best of the best for her personal protection. But sometimes she wondered if he was just a bit too well trained.

"You know I can't do that, Your Royal Highness," Dimitri replied with a little chuckle. "We can't get too familiar with our protectees."

They'd had this conversation before. They both knew the other's arguments. But that didn't stop Ruth. "Tom called me Ruth," she pointed out.

"That was a different circumstance, ma'am," he reminded her.

"Yes, I know," she said in a soft, sad tone. Even after a year of her father on the throne, Ruth still had not come to terms with all the regrets she still felt as a result of it. Her freedom was gone. Her options and possibilities were gone. She had given up the job that she had loved so much. She existed to assist her father in royal duties. She was constantly followed by photographers and journalists wanting to write about her; thankfully those had died down once they realized that Ruth was a supremely boring person. But her normal life was gone. Well, as normal as she could manage it. That was just a forgotten dream now.

Ruth must have dozed off in the car, for the next thing she knew, Dimitri had parked the car and opened her door. "Home again, ma'am," he said gently, waking her up.

She sighed heavily. "Thank you, Dimitri." She took his hand as he helped her out of the car.

"Might I make a suggestion, ma'am?" he asked hesitantly, closing the car door and standing behind her.

Ruth turned back to him curiously. "Of course."

"Go find Sir Harry before you do anything else. You've had a long, hard day. And he always makes you feel better."

A smile broke out on her face. It certainly was not a bodyguard's place to say things like that. But Dimitri was a special sort of lad. Knowing that he paid attention not just to her safety but to _her_, enough to know that nice facet of her relationship with Harry was very sweet. "I've found that to be one of the better parts of marriage. A good marriage, anyway. Your spouse should make you feel better."

"You and Sir Harry are very lucky that way," Dimitri commented.

Ruth nodded. "We are. I'm thankful for it every day."

He smiled. "Goodnight, ma'am."

"Goodnight, Dimitri. Thank you."

She turned to walk up to the front of the palace to go inside. Behind her, she could have sworn she heard Dimitri say, "Thank you, Ruth." And she smiled.

"You're home late."

Ruth closed the front door behind her and whirled around to see Malcolm with an empty glass in his hand. "Long day," she said. "We had that event in the afternoon and meetings went long. I stayed to have dinner with Dad. How's everything here?" she asked.

"Harry went up to bed, but I'm sure he'll be awake a little while longer. We had an interesting evening. You were missed for dinner," Malcolm told her.

She frowned. "Interesting how?"

He gave a secretive sort of smile. "Might want to go up and see Graham before bed," he said cryptically. "Goodnight, Ruth."

"'Night, Malcolm."

Malcolm's suggestion was odd. Particularly given the way Graham had changed over the last year. He had been extremely unhappy moving out to Leister. He was doing well in school still, but he had lost much of his cheerful enthusiasm from when he was a boy. Perhaps that was just a symptom of getting older, as Harry told her time and again, but Ruth still worried that there was something else to Graham's newfound surliness.

As she went up the stairs and down the corridor to Graham's room, she saw a light under the closed door and the sounds of laughter. How very unusual. Ruth knocked on the door. "Graham, it's Ruth," she announced.

There was a scrambling inside, followed by Graham's voice. "Come in, Ruth."

She opened the door to find Graham sitting on his messy bed with a pillow on his lap. And sitting on the other end, leaning against the footboard with another pillow was his sister. "Catherine!" Ruth exclaimed happily. "What are you doing here!?"

Catherine smiled and stood up to give Ruth a hug. "I missed the family. And since one of my classes for tomorrow got cancelled, I decided to skip the other and I asked Beth to bring me home for the weekend."

"I'm so glad to see you," Ruth told her, hugging her tight.

And it was the truth. This last year had been difficult and made all the more so for Ruth with her dearest friend. It was wonderful that Catherine was at university and living her life and finding more of her independence in her second year, but Ruth selfishly wished she could have Catherine with her through all this, just as she had been during the wedding planning.

But as they hugged, Ruth realized something. She pulled back and regarded her sternly. "Have you been drinking?" she asked softly.

Catherine was a little pink in the face and tried not to laugh, but a little giggle slipped out. She turned back to Graham, who was also laughing.

Ruth's blood began to boil. "Give me the bottle," she demanded.

Graham's laughter continued, ignoring how cross Ruth very obviously was. He moved the pillow off his lap to reveal a half-empty bottle of scotch. One of Harry's, which made it even worse. Ruth snatched it out of his hand, shaking with rage.

"Glasses. Where are the glasses? I know you weren't just passing this bottle back and forth," she snapped.

Catherine and Graham were a bit too intoxicated to move as quickly as she wanted them to. And they were unconcerned with her anger. So she went around to the other side of the bed. And right there, just beneath the bedframe, were two glasses of scotch, both nearly empty but not quite. Ruth put the bottle under her arm and picked up a glass in each hand.

She stood up and looked pointedly. "This is absolutely unacceptable, Graham."

"Oh come on, Ruth. It's not a big deal. Dad drinks every night," he pointed out dismissively.

"Yes, well, when you've got a stressful job managing an entire military division and you're a war hero, you can drink every night, too." She turned then to Catherine. "You should know better. You're of age, but he isn't. I expect better from you," Ruth scolded.

She did not wait for them to respond. She was too mad. She went out the door and slammed it behind her. Not knowing what else to do, Ruth took everything up another flight of stairs to her own bedroom.

"I've already had plenty, thanks."

As soon as she opened the door, she found Harry in his dressing gown, likely putting things away before bed. She must have looked insane, carrying two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

In a fit of pique, Ruth drank down each of the glasses—only about three swallows between them—and put them down on a sideboard with the bottle. "I found these in your son's room with both your children getting drunk together."

Harry chuckled, "Well, that's nice for them."

"Harry!"

"What do you expect, Ruth? Catherine's just turned twenty. Graham will be eighteen next month. They're young. There's nothing wrong with it."

Ruth felt all the fight drain out of her. She vaguely recalled having had this discussion before. Perhaps Harry was right. It didn't matter. She'd overreacted. She'd apologize to Graham and Catherine tomorrow. For right now, she was just too tired to push.

Without responding to Harry, Ruth took off her jacket and tossed it onto a chair and slipped off her shoes. She crossed to the bed and flopped down on top of it. Her arms were crossed beneath her, and she rested her forehead on them to hide her face.

A weight on the edge of the bed indicated that Harry had sat down beside her. He gently stroked her hair and rubbed her back for a minute before asking, "What's bothering you, darling?"

"I hate being a princess," she whined, voice muffled against the bed.

"I know you do," he answered sympathetically. "Anything specific about it today, or is that just a general statement?"

Ruth felt herself smile at his lightheartedness. She rolled over onto her back to look up at him. "I had to give an address to the miner's union today. It didn't go well. I got flustered and distracted and lost my place in my notes. Sam tried to be nice about it, but she couldn't really hide how terribly I did."

"It's still new for you," Harry reasoned.

She grumbled, "I know. That's what Sam said. But why is everyone else in my family so good at it? Grandfather gave beautiful speeches full of gravitas. Edmund was a charming, enigmatic speaker. Dad's got this quiet dignity about him. And I'm just an awkward mess!"

"They've been practicing at this a lot longer than you, Ruth," he reminded her. "Your grandfather was king for a long time before you were even born. And both his sons assisted him with public appearances for a long time. Your father shielded you from having to do much of that because it wasn't necessary for you to deal with. You've only really been doing the heavy lifting of royalty for a year. Less than that, since you were still working a few days a week in Foreign Intelligence for the first few months. You'll get better as you get more experience."

He was being very sweet, she knew. And his words were something of a comfort. But that just wasn't what Ruth wanted to hear at the moment. Besides, she knew he was right and she wasn't even too upset over the speech. "I got another negative result today," she said.

Harry's whole face changed. He'd been smiling softly to soothe her. His expression immediately fell at her words and a somewhat haunted, exhausted look appeared. "Oh Ruth, I'm so sorry."

They'd been trying to get pregnant for months and months now. With absolutely no luck. Ruth was being monitored by a doctor. She got blood tests every two weeks to check various levels of things. Both she and Harry were on special diets and taking supplements to increase fertility. All to no avail. Nothing had happened.

When she didn't answer, Harry settled down on the bed, lying sideways on it beside Ruth, and took her in his arms. "We'll keep trying," he said softly.

Ruth just nodded. Yes, they'd keep trying. Eventually they'd succeed. She hoped. But between the bad speech and the negative test result and her overreaction at Graham and Catherine, she felt like the day had been full of her failures from start to finish.

But at least she was with Harry now. He held her and kissed her hair and whispered that he loved her. And just as Dimitri had said, Ruth felt a little better just being with him.


	41. Chapter 41

_Chapter Forty-One_

"Stop doing that," Harry scolded.

Ruth looked back to him as they danced through the ballroom. "Doing what?" she asked.

"Craning your neck like that trying to see what she's doing."

She sighed in slight annoyance. "I just don't trust her," Ruth defended.

"Neither do I, but she won't make a scene. It'll be alright. You know the worst she'll do is make some backhanded remark in that falsely sweet voice of hers," Harry pointed out.

Ruth sighed again and tried to force herself to look at Harry and not try to seek out Juliet once again. It was a nightmare every time they had to see her. It was only at formal public events where she was ever around the rest of the family. And the king's birthday was unfortunately one of those. Ruth's father was celebrating his first birthday since the coronation—the first birthday since he acceded to the throne had been so soon after Edmund's death that a celebration was unthinkable—so they were having a grand party at the palace. And because it was not a state dinner but a family celebration. So not only were Harry and Ruth invited but Graham and Catherine as well. And, because there were also press outside the entrance and all the distant family comprising the nobility in attendance, Juliet was invited as well. Queen Juliet had never, in all her life, avoided a public event where she could dazzle a crowd.

She'd played the part of grieving widow quite well. Early on, Ruth was quite sure it wasn't an act. Juliet and Edmund, for all their faults, had been quite devoted to each other. She may have schemed to marry him, but he had loved her and it was quite clear that she had grown to love him over the years. But after her tears had subsided, she did a number of public events where she did put her widowhood on display. Something about showing off her strength through grief was very appealing to the public. She was constantly seen at the palace and assisting the new king and attending events. The fact that her husband had died and yet she was still allowed to call herself a queen was quite the boon for her. Ruth and her father both found it exhausting, but she did take a load off their plates, so they did not begrudge her for it. So long as she stayed far away.

The best thing had been when she had finally moved out of the palace, having managed to squeeze two full years of residence from it despite Edmund only having been king for thirteen months, and moved back to her former residence at Harbridge. It was opulent and closer to the capital than Leister was, which served Juliet quiet well. Dad was happy to let her keep the place, since there wasn't any other royal who needed it. Ruth and her family—including an eventual child, god willing—were at Leister, the king was at the palace in the capital, and that was the full extent of the royal family now. It was strange for Ruth to think about. Three short years ago, she and Harry had lived in Pearce manor, Dad was in Leister, Grandfather was in the capital, and Edmund and Juliet were in Harbridge together. So much had changed so quickly.

"Could you please just enjoy yourself? I hardly ever get to dance with you anymore," Harry pouted, seeing she was distracted once again.

Ruth smirked at him. "That's your fault, you know. We've got a ballroom and a perfectly fine speaker system. There's no reason you can't put on some music and dance with me at home." Funny, when did Leister become home again? She'd been calling it Leister for so long. Perhaps she'd gotten used to living there with Harry and the children.

Harry countered, "Well, I like dancing with you when you're wearing one of these fabulous gowns with your hair and makeup all princessy."

She smiled. It wasn't often they had formal events where people came over to dress her and make her up and coif her hair. They liked life better when they didn't have all that fuss. But for Dad's birthday, she'd gone to the royal designer and chosen a gown of periwinkle blue with gold accents. It wasn't a full skirt, so not too 'princessy' as Harry would say. It did have a bit of movement though. And it was cut quite low, which Harry had also noticed right away. The gold beading between her breasts certainly drew the eye. Not normally something she would do, but since she was trying every which way for her husband to get her pregnant, she figured it wouldn't hurt to show off a bit.

Impulsively, Harry leaned in to kiss her cheek. He was careful to avoid her lipstick, since he'd had enough experience now getting it all over his face if he was too eager too early in the evening. And he could kiss her cheek without worry because her hair was pulled back to an elegant and shockingly intricate chignon. Ruth felt quite beautiful, and Harry had told her she was a number of times tonight. And when he kissed her softly like that, she felt beautiful all over again.

Ruth was so caught up in the nice feeling of dancing with Harry and feeling like a beautiful princess that she momentarily forgot all about Juliet. Well, almost. The band had to take a break, so the dancing was through for now. Ruth and Harry applauded politely and went back to the table where Catherine was chatting away with King James.

"And did you know that Mahrain was a district in Jelman before it was colonized by King Edmund II?" Catherine asked animatedly.

Dad, bless him, nodded patiently. "I did, actually. That was my grandfather, in fact. And I've spent some time in Mahrain. I joined my father there on the royal tour a few years ago."

"That was almost seven years ago," Ruth interjected.

He looked over to her as she sat down next to him and smiled. "How do you know that?"

"Because that was the royal tour where I went to Gambon with Grandfather. And I remember that because just before I left, Harry asked me out for the first time. He told me to think about it while I was away and give him the answer when I got back. Grandfather gave me some very good advice."

"Must not have been that good, since you married him," Catherine teased.

Ruth laughed, "Would you rather I didn't?"

"Well I certainly wouldn't rather she didn't," King James inserted, "because otherwise I wouldn't get to have you and Graham in the family."

"And we wouldn't get to have you and Ruth in ours," Catherine agreed. "All worked out for the best."

With a happy chuckle, the king kissed Catherine on the cheek. He then turned back to Ruth and Harry sitting on his other side. "Catherine's been telling me about her university courses. Apparently there's one about the colonies, their history prior to colonization. I know a bit here and there, but it sounds fascinating."

Ruth nodded. "The history and culture of the colonies is very interesting. Catherine, I'm glad you're taking that class. I'm sure it's very valuable. Don't you think, Harry?"

"Yes, it should be taught much more," he agreed.

Catherine frowned. "How do you know about colonial history?" she asked accusingly.

Harry was working up to an argumentative answer, Ruth could tell, but luckily the king answered instead. "Harry runs Foreign Intelligence. The colonies are our most important source of intelligence abroad. He and Ruth both have to know every single thing about those colonies in order to effectively do their job. Well, what used to be Ruth's job before I had to drag her into royal life with me," he added apologetically.

That seemed to give Catherine something to think about.

But before anyone could say anything else on the subject, the band started playing again. "Catherine, dear, would you like to dance?" the king asked.

"Me? Really?"

He nodded. "Yes, really. If you want to. You certainly don't have to. Ruth and I will have the final dance to end the evening later. But since we're here…"

"Yes, thank you!" Catherine agreed excitedly. She took the king's hand and stood up. Ruth gazed admiringly at her lovely figure and beautiful blonde hair with the pastel green gown she wore. She was growing into the most exquisite young woman.

Harry sighed sadly beside her. She chuckled. "Yes, I was just thinking how much she's grown up," she noted.

"She really is. She looks just like her mother."

"Do you have any photos of Jane? Maybe with the children when they were young?" Ruth asked suddenly.

Harry frowned. "Malcolm might know where they are at the old house. Why?"

"The children should have more photos of their mother. Something to remind them of her. If they want to," she suggested.

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Why should I mind? Jane was there mother. And she'd been gone a year before I even met you. I hardly think you'll be pining after the ghost of your ex-wife if we've got photographs of her in the house. We just don't need them in our bedroom," Ruth reasoned.

Harry chuckled at that and kissed her cheek again, making her smile. "Would you like to dance again?" he asked, whispering in her ear.

"Maybe later," Ruth answered, turning to gaze into his honey-hazel eyes. They were shining with love, which was her favorite way to see him look at her.

He nodded. "In that case, I'm going to get a drink. Would you like one?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you, love."

Harry got up from the table, leaving Ruth on her own to watch Catherine dance with Dad. She wondered, not for the first time, if she would be able to give her father grandchildren. Catherine and Graham were as good as, but they'd come into Ruth's life when they were practically grown. Dad deserved to be a grandfather to a newborn baby, to watch them grow and learn and become a little person. Ruth's troubles were everyone's troubles in that regard. And she worried, too, that even if she did have a child within the year, that Dad might not be able to have much time to see them grow up.

"What a lovely little family you've got for yourself, Princess."

Ruth heard the snide comment from the icy voice of none other than Queen Juliet. Without asking, she took Harry's former seat beside Ruth. "Hello, Juliet," Ruth greeted politely.

"That Catherine Pearce is the spitting image of her mother," she commented, following Ruth's gaze and sipping on her drink.

"How do you know that?" Ruth asked, brow furrowed in suspicion.

"Oh I met Jane a number of times. I had occasion to attend various functions in the capital while she and Harry were still married. Charity benefits and fashion shows and the like. Those sorts of garden party luncheons full of distant nobility who have nothing better to do. Jane liked the Library Preservation Society best, if I remember correctly," Juliet explained airily.

Ruth felt her temper start to flare, but she kept herself calm. "Did she know who you were?"

Juliet shrugged. "She knew I was the Marchioness of Kerswith. Whether she was aware of Harry and I, I don't know. If she did, she was either the most wonderful actress to ignore it or else she just didn't care. Or maybe she didn't know. Though I don't think that I would have pegged Jane Pearce as being so stupid."

"What did you just say about my mother?"

Graham's voice was quiet and dangerous. Harry had that same tone in his voice when he was furious. Ruth immediately stood up to try and prevent the worst. "Come with me, please," she said sternly.

"No, I want to know what she was saying about my mother," he insisted, a little louder this time.

Ruth could not have this happen. Not in the palace. Not in front of a hundred other people. Not on Dad's birthday. "Graham, come dance with me. Now," she demanded.

His gaze was intensely fixed on Juliet who just drank her champagne and watched the scene before her without a hint of bother. But thankfully Graham then looked to Ruth. The anger immediately melted to sadness and confusion. The tension fell from his body in a sign of defeat.

"Come on," Ruth said again, softly this time. She took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

"What was she saying, Ruth?" Graham asked in the most heartbreakingly small voice.

Ruth did more of the leading through the waltz than Graham did, but she didn't blame him under the circumstances. She tried to find the words to explain. Something told her that it had to be her. He wouldn't take it as well from Harry. And Harry would hopefully appreciate her sparing him the chore of doing it himself. She did her best to give as much information as Graham should have. "A long time ago, when you were very small, just after the war, Harry was quite lost from all that he'd seen in battle. He had been apart from your mother for a long time. They weren't very happy together. And because Harry was sad and lost and young and very, very stupid, he was unfaithful."

"With Queen Juliet?" Graham seemed to have already accepted it. Likely he knew, as Catherine did, that Harry's infidelity had been the main cause of the divorce.

"Yes," Ruth confessed. "Among others. She was not married, then, but he was. She treated him very badly, in the end. She is a truly vile woman, but she is unfortunately a member of this family and she is a queen."

"I think she's a bitch," Graham snarled.

God, he sounded just like Harry there, it was almost frightening. "I agree with you, but you cannot say things like that to anyone else. We all have to remember our manners with her. It would be trouble for everyone if we were all bickering openly. We can just continue to avoid her as best we can."

Graham nodded in understanding. And after a moment he realized, "Wait, aren't I supposed to be leading?"

Ruth smiled. "Go right ahead."

As Graham got the hang of leading Ruth through the rest of their waltz, Ruth looked over his shoulder to find Harry. Thankfully Juliet had gone to bother someone else, and Harry was sitting alone at the table. He was smiling, seeing his wife and son dance. He raised his glass in toast to her when they caught each other's eye. Ruth smiled back at him.


	42. Chapter 42

_Chapter Forty-Two_

Ruth's heart was still racing in her chest, but her breathing was getting back to normal. The sweat on her body was starting to cool. She hummed happily, still buzzing with pleasure.

Harry's head rested on her bare belly. He shifted to press soft kisses on her skin. Ruth ran her fingers through his riotous curls. His hair was noticeably thinner now, but he was forty-five years old. All the rest of him seemed just as strong and virile as ever to her, though she had to admit he'd put on a little weight and now his hair was starting to go. But she did not care. She could not imagine not being attracted to him, what with their history together and the skillful way he made love to her with nearly frightening frequency.

Her legs were wrapped around his torso as he rested between them. Her heel stroked his back affectionately. "Nice way to start Sunday," she quipped.

Harry chuckled and shook them both slightly. "I thought so, yes. Your birthday is on a weekday and I know how you hate waking up early, so I didn't want to bother you before work on the day of."

"That's very considerate of you." He was right, of course. She would have absolutely hated to be woken at five in the morning on her birthday for him to make love to her. Perhaps back when they were working together and kept the same work hours, it would have been fine. Actually it was. He'd woken her up that way when she turned twenty-seven, she recalled. A wonderful gesture, of course, but he had to go to work and their time would be limited on Tuesday this year. Sunday was a much better option. They could lie in bed together uninterrupted for as long as they wanted on a Sunday, so long as there were no events planned. And today was, thankfully, an entirely free day. Ruth would have been happy to lie here forever with him, just like this.

"You know, I've got a feeling," Harry began.

"I'm going to need a little time to get back into it if you'd like me to do anything about a feeling you've got, Harry," she teased.

He laughed. "No, not that. Though perhaps we can work ourselves up to another round in a little while. Since this is the only birthday celebration I can give you in bed. But no, I've got a feeling that you might be pregnant."

She frowned. That was not a situation she wanted reminding of just now. Or ever, really. But particularly now. They were happy and having fun. They were not consumed with this horrifying need to procreate. She just wanted to enjoy herself for once in these last horrible seven months without a goal in mind. But Ruth did not want to be cross with him for bringing such a thing up. And so she tried to be as tactful and calm as she could. "What makes you say that?" Her voice came out cold, and she was sure Harry noticed.

His hands traced her hips and waist and up to her breasts. She gave a slight jump at his touch, oversensitive as she was. "You see? You're not usually so reactive. Not like that, anyway. And you…well…"

"Harry, are you blushing?" she asked, laughing from his hesitation. For all the delicious, filthy things they'd done together over the years, she hardly thought he'd be shy about anything in their sex life.

"Well perhaps I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, now you have to tell me," she insisted, taking her chin in her hand and forcing him to look up at her. "What is it?"

"You…erm…taste different," he confessed awkwardly.

That was not at all anything she expected. "I _taste_ different? What on earth does that mean?"

"Just what I said, Ruth. The number of times I've gone down on you over the years, I have a certain familiarity. And this time it was a bit different."

Ruth did not know what to do with that. "Was it…I mean…did you mind? I don't want it to be unpleasant or anything." Christ, now she was blushing.

"Very pleasant always," he assured her. Harry pushed himself up to reach her lips and kissed her. "I never mind getting to do that for you. Quite the opposite, in fact. I love getting to taste you and make you fall apart on my tongue. This was like milk chocolate as opposed to dark chocolate. Decadent and delicious always, just somewhat different. That's all."

She took great pleasure in kissing him again after that. His words had caused a tingle of arousal in her once more, and since it was Sunday morning, she was eager to take advantage. Ruth bent her knees to cradle Harry between her thighs and slipped her tongue into his mouth. His hands were all over her, and she could feel him growing hard against her once more.

All of a sudden, the shrill ringing of the telephone across the bedroom shattered their moment. Harry rolled off her with a groan of frustration. She sat up, trying to calm herself down, and watched her husband walk across the room stark naked. Ruth smiled. Yes, even having gained a little weight, he was still quite a specimen. Particularly with an erection. It was flagging a bit, but she was sure she could solve that problem after he got off the phone. Unfortunately it was not a feasible option to not answer the phone. Between Harry's intelligence work and Ruth's royal duties, they did not have the luxury of ever being unavailable.

"What?" Harry barked into the receiver. It was the switchboard that patched in the calls, and they'd all learned about Harry's grumpiness by now. He hummed in annoyance and then held the phone out. "Ruth, they want you."

With a sigh of annoyance of her own, Ruth hauled herself out of bed. Unlike Harry, she was not as comfortable being naked all the time, and she slipped her silk dressing gown on over her body and tied it as she crossed over to him.

"Don't be long," he whispered, kissing her cheek and giving her bottom a squeeze.

Ruth was still giggling slightly as she picked up the phone. She watched Harry walk back to the bed and lie back to watch her. "Yes?" she asked, still smiling at her husband.

"Your Royal Highness, Doctor Parkins for you."

"Yes, alright," she said. Doctor Parkins was the fertility specialist giving her blood tests every two weeks to determine if she was pregnant. They were always negative. But the doctor knew to inform her as soon as the results came in, so the Sunday morning call was not unprecedented.

"Good morning, Your Royal Highness," came Doctor Parkins' cool voice. "I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday," she said.

"No, that's alright. Your calls are important ones," Ruth told her.

"Your test results have come back, and I'm pleased to inform you that you and your husband have successfully conceived."

Ruth felt like she might have blacked out for a moment. "I…what?"

"You're pregnant," Doctor Parkins explained.

"Y-you're sure?" she asked weakly. She could hardly believe such a thing.

"Very sure, Your Royal Highness. About three weeks along. The last test we did was too early to detect pregnancy. Your levels on all relevant hormones and proteins are perfect. We'll have to monitor you closely, given your circumstances, but I am optimistic that you will have a healthy pregnancy and have a healthy baby in about thirty-seven weeks from now."

"Okay." Ruth could not put together a full sentence just yet.

"I'll be in contact with your scheduler so we can have regular appointments to keep an eye on everything. But congratulations to you and Sir Harry."

"Thank you."

She was vaguely aware of the doctor saying goodbye, but Ruth just hung up the phone, feeling quite stunned. This whole ordeal had been…well, an ordeal. She'd never really wanted children of her own, but knowing she had to produce an heir to the throne made it necessary. And in the necessity of it, in knowing she would be a mother whether she wanted to or not, Ruth had allowed herself to think of having a baby, of raising a child with Harry, of creating a life that was a mix of the two of them, of seeing their son or daughter grow and learn and become the next monarch of their nation. And she wanted it very much now. She was desperate to be pregnant and have a baby and all the rest. It had taken them so long and there had been nothing but disappointments until now. Until right now. Two days before her thirtieth birthday, Ruth had gotten the best gift imaginable.

"Harry," she said, finally blinking herself back to reality.

He was watching her with concern on his face but knowing her well enough to not press, to wait until she processed enough to speak to him, to not crowd her before she was ready to share with him. "What is it, Ruth?" he asked warily.

It was then that Ruth allowed herself to smile. Tears pricked her eyes and she didn't bother to blink them away. She ran over to the bed and leapt on it and into Harry's arms. "Harry, I'm pregnant!" she told him triumphantly.

"Bloody hell, I was right!?" he asked disbelief.

She laughed, not having recalled his theory of her already being pregnant from just ten minutes ago. "You were! I'm pregnant. Harry, we did it, we're going to have a baby!" Ruth felt like she might be going mad. She was so overwhelmed with joy and confusion and disbelief and excitement.

Harry, it seemed, was equally stunned. He just laughed and grinned and kissed her. He quickly rid her of the dressing gown and they got back to where they'd left off, this time celebrating so much more than Ruth's birthday.


	43. Chapter 43

_Chapter Forty-Three_

"How about Arthur?"

"I don't hate that one."

Harry smiled gently against her skin. "What do you think?" he whispered, still loud enough for Ruth to hear. "Arthur? Edgar? James?"

Ruth ran her fingers through his hair and gave it a yank, pulling his face away from her rounded belly. "I'll allow Arthur and James and Henry as middle names. He'll be king one day, and all us royals have far too many names. But we need a first name," she reminded him.

He sighed, running his hand over where their unborn baby had been cocooned inside her body these last seven months. They still had time before the baby arrived to come up with a name, but it was important to find a name. A royal birth, particularly for the second in line for the throne, would require announcements and a prepared circus from the palace.

"We can come up with more boy names later. I do like James after my father. Maybe Richard after Grandfather. You won't let us name him Henry after you, I know."

Harry grumbled at that. He'd had the same fight with Jane before Graham was born. In the end, they'd given him Henry as a middle name with the express understanding that he'd be called Graham and only Graham and never, ever use his middle name. Henry was a fine sort of name, but Harry did not feel much connection to it. His name was Harry. Harry James Pearce. Henry James Pearce, despite being the name on his birth certificate and all official records, felt like an unfamiliar person to Harry. He was Harry, and that's all there was to it.

James seemed to be the best name, since both Harry and Ruth's fathers had the name, but she was adamant about not having it as a first name, just as he was adamant about not having Henry as a first name. Arthur seemed to be good choice, but Ruth didn't love it, obviously. Richard was a good name, but it might be odd to have another Richard as king so soon. Well, not that Harry or Ruth would be alive when their son acceded to the throne. That's how it worked, after all. Ruth would surely outlive Harry by many, many years. At least if he had anything to say about it. But that morbid thought wasn't right to have just now.

"Remind me of all your litany of names," Harry said, wanting to focus on girl names for the moment. Privately, he was hoping they'd have a girl. Either way, they'd be happy, of course, but Harry had this vision of a tiny little version of Ruth with her luminous eyes and her dark hair and her pale skin. And, of course, Ruth's brilliant mind deserved to be passed on to another brilliant woman to rule her people just as incredibly as Ruth was sure to do when she herself became queen.

Ruth sighed. Harry knew she was rather tired by her excessively long name, but it was a good place to start. "My full name," she said reluctantly, "is Louisa Ruth Emilia Catherine."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that. He kissed Ruth's belly again and told their unborn child, "You hear that? Your mummy's got a beautiful bunch of names. I hope we can give you a few of those."

"Oh stop it. I don't want to use any of my names," she protested.

"None of them?" Harry asked in disbelief, looking up at her. "I know there's a lot, but they are very nice. I don't think we should use Catherine, since that's a bit overused between my wife and my daughter already. But none of the others?"

"Alright no Catherine and no Ruth," she amended.

He frowned. "Why no Ruth?" After all, that was her second name but the one she was known best as. At least in her personal life. He thought it was a lovely name.

"It's silly but…"

"Tell me," he prompted encouragingly.

"Well it's just that this life is so full of tradition and models to follow and rules and history and all of it. And I just…Ruth is _my _name. It's just mine. I know I'm Princess Louisa and one day I'll be Queen Louisa, but that's my job. My role. Me, myself, I'm Ruth. And I don't want it to be passed on like all these other duties that no one has a choice about. I don't want my name to be another burden our child has to bear. I want something that's just mine," Ruth explained sadly.

Harry had never thought of it that way. The name, unlike so many other things, was a product of the dynasties but was so personal to the person who had it. Harry was Harry and not Henry. Ruth was Ruth and not Louisa. That he could certainly understand. "Alright," he agreed softly. "You're Ruth. Only you. But I think Louisa should be in there somewhere. Not her first name. But I feel very strongly that you're going to be a wonderful queen and that legacy should be held in her name somewhere."

Ruth smiled down at him. They were lying on the sofa in their private sitting room and Harry was keeping his head near her belly as they lay tangled together. Her top was pushed up to expose the ever-expanding swell of their child. And it was getting so big that she could hardly see over it now without propping herself up. But she did so in order to smile down at him. "Okay, I'll agree to Louisa."

"Where did the rest of your names come from?" he asked.

"Louisa was Grandfather's younger sister who died in childhood. Ruth just came from my dad's imagination, which is why he always called me Ruth. Emilia was the wife of Albert the Emancipator, first king of the House Everard. And Catherine was my mother's mother's name," she told him.

"And what was your mother's name?"

"Elizabeth Charlotte Catherine. What was your mother's name?" she asked in return.

"Fiona Alexandra."

A spark of recognition appeared in Ruth's face at that. "Fiona? Really?"

"Yes, really."

"I actually really like that. Our Fiona here at Leister is the most wonderful woman. She's a wonderful mother to little Wes. And it was really your mother's name."

Harry nodded. "I have always liked our Fiona. And the fact that she's got my mother's name made me like her even more. Do you want to name our daughter Fiona? If we have a girl, I mean?"

"Well, maybe not a first name," she cautioned.

She did have a point about that, since there was already a Fiona in their house. Might be strange. But it left them in the same place. There were names they both liked but Ruth couldn't seem to decide on a first name. He'd have to give it some thought.

"My dad's mother's name was Mary," Ruth offered. "She was wonderful, my grandmother. I think it might be nice to honor her. Mary Dianne Louisa Margaret was her full name, if I remember correctly."

Harry tried to resist sighing in exasperation. These royals all had a million names. Their son or daughter would be plagued with the same problem. But there was one of those million names that he didn't mind. "Mary is my Catherine's middle name, too."

"Did you name her for someone?"

"Catherine was for Jane's mother. Mary was for my dad's mother. At the time, my mother had just recently died and I didn't feel right using Fiona just yet. But enough time has passed. Fiona and Mary are both wonderful names, I think."

"Fiona Mary Louisa, you think?"

"We said no to Fiona as a first name, right?"

"Right. Do you like one of the others as a first name?"

"I think…" Harry trailed off, thinking of the various configurations of names, thinking if any felt right. He placed his cheek on Ruth's belly, almost trying to hear if their baby had any opinion on the matter.

Ruth interrupted to say, "I think I like John Albert James for a boy. We can tack Henry onto the end if you'll allow. Or we could leave it."

Harry smiled. He heard her voice somewhat through the vibrating echo of her body from where his right ear was pressed. "Yes, I like that. And I think I like Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa for a girl."

There was no response. Ruth didn't say anything or react at all, so far as Harry could tell. He lifted his head, worried he'd upset her in some way. But when he looked at her, he saw tears welling up in her eyes.

"Ruth?"

She nodded and blinked rapidly. "I think that's it," she said, her voice harsh as she tried not to cry.

Harry took that as a very good sign indeed. After all this time, they'd finally figured it out. They had names. Their baby was going to be in their arms in just a few weeks. And their son or daughter had a name waiting for him or her.


	44. Chapter 44

_Chapter Forty-Four_

"Oi, Prince Grumpy!"

Harry whirled around to the shouting photographer with every intention of smashing the camera and the man's face along with it. He raised his arm with a snarl as the camera flashed and clicked at him.

"Don't!" came a sharp tone.

He stopped immediately. That Sam Buxton had a shockingly authoritative tone when she wanted to. And Harry did feel bad for her, having to spend her time with him instead of with Ruth. Poor Ruth was due to give birth any day now, and since her blood pressure had gotten to dangerous levels, Doctor Parkins had ordered her on bedrest. And with King James in increasingly fragile health, Harry had very reluctantly offered to assist with royal appearances. He could not bear seeing his wife or father-in-law struggling with these things in their respective conditions, and he would be damned if Juliet got to be the public face of the monarchy. And so, if only to prevent her from usurping everyone else, Harry began lending a hand. Sam, Ruth's secretary and scheduler, didn't have anything to do with the princess on bedrest, so she and Malcolm, Harry's own secretary and scheduler, had been working together to shepherd him from place to place.

Never mind, of course, that Harry had an actual job to do. Erin Watts had come into her own shockingly quickly. She did not have the encyclopedic brain and translation skills that Ruth possessed, but she was much more ambitious than Ruth ever was, which meant that Erin took on much more than was absolutely necessary. And she was wonderful at it. But Harry was not ready to turn all operations at Foreign Intelligence over to her just yet. He did not want to be dragged completely into royal life. When Ruth eventually became queen, he couldn't imagine he'd be permitted to keep a job at all. But it wasn't time for that just yet, thank god.

Harry calmed himself down and turned back to the offending photographer. "I'm not a prince," he corrected quietly through gritted teeth.

But he knew it would do no good. He'd had a reputation in the press for quite a while now. For years now, he'd been shouting at journalists and pushing photographers away from Ruth. The incident at Catherine's sixteenth birthday sprang to mind. One would think he'd have learned by now. But here he was. 'Prince Grumpy' was one of the many nicknames the papers had given him. 'The Moody Major' and 'Sir Sulky' had been printed quite a bit as well. Harry did not care a single bit about any of it. Graham and Catherine found it hilarious and teased him whenever one of the monikers appeared on the page. Catherine had even gone so far as to phone from university to make jokes to him. At least his children did not take any of that muck seriously. Ruth, however, got very sad about it. Part of it was the pregnancy hormones making her more emotional than usual, but she got quite defensive about the whole thing, wishing the press would be nicer to him. No matter how much Harry assured her it wasn't important at all, he knew she was still bothered by the idea that others did not find her husband as lovely and charming as she did. He tried to tell her that her opinion of him was the only one that mattered, but he also knew she had a point; things would only be made harder for her if the public had a negative view of her husband.

So here he was, being grumpy and ill-tempered as always in public, trying to remind himself that he was doing what needed to be done to help Ruth and the king. Today's pointless exercise was giving a speech to the railworkers union. The public relations department at the palace had written the speech, Malcolm had edited it, and Harry had then revised it further. He wasn't a bad writer, he knew, nor was he a bad speaker. He was better at public appearances than Ruth was in that regard. His experience as an army commander had given him a gift for oration. Harry's problem was always in getting people to like him when he wasn't giving speeches. The politicians and such always respected him and trust him in his work, but no one ever really _liked_ him. And as a member of the royal who was not a reigning sovereign, all there was to be was liked. Ruth did not have that problem. She was always liked. Beloved. But very often overlooked. She'd kept out of the public eye for so much of her life that now that she was more front and center, all the papers reported on her with a tone that indicated that she didn't really matter. She was their princess, she was lovely, she was regarded kindly. Very little beyond that. Her position as queen was one she'd need to grow into, certainly, and Harry did worry he would only cause more problems for her if he didn't win some public affection.

"Alright, let's get this over with," he grumbled.

Malcolm, walking beside him following Sam through the event hall that the union had reserved for the occasion, spoke to him in a low tone, "You'll have to shake some hands after the speech, I'm afraid. But you've got a good excuse to get out quickly."

Harry frowned. "Have I?"

"Yes of course," Malcolm replied with a smile. "You've got a pregnant wife at home who gets lonely for you."

That wasn't untrue, but the insinuation that Ruth was this pathetic little thing did not sit right with Harry. But perhaps he could garner some of that all-important public affection by playing the doting father-to-be. And people loved babies, didn't they? Maybe the impending birth would help them all in that regard.

Harry was led to the side of the stage and stood there with a polite smile pasted on his face as the union president made the introduction. He praised Harry's efforts as a war hero, garnering him a knighthood from King Richard. He also made a rather nice point about how Harry was a remarkable man who worked hard to serve his country and was now honored to be a part of their royal family. That was a rather good angle, Harry realized, painting himself as one of the common people, which he was, who had risen through the ranks on his own merit merit and was given the opportunity to be in the public eye by virtue of falling in love with the woman who would one day be their queen.

Christ, if he kept thinking like this, he might have to quit Foreign Intelligence and join public relations. Harry Pearce five years ago would have rather died than contemplate these various manipulations of opinion.

In the end, the speech went just fine. He spoke well, as always, and used his natural gravitas to command the audience. After that, Sam and Malcolm introduced him to a number of the railworkers.

"Sir Harry, this is Miles Dooley, he's been a train engineer for the last twenty-three years," Sam said, leading Harry to yet another anonymous face in the crowd.

"And I laid track all around the country before that, sir," the man added.

Harry played nice, suppressing every urge inside him that screamed _I don't care!_ "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dooley. Tell me, which job do you prefer: laying track or train engineer?"

"Frankly, sir, I preferred the hard labor. But it got too hard on my back after a few years, hauling all that rail and swinging hammers day in and day out. That's why I trained to be an engineer. Besides, by then, the track laying was starting to slow."

"Yes, we've certainly had the benefit of marvelous railways all over the country for many years now. A huge thanks to you, Mr. Dooley, for your service," Harry told him kindly.

"Thank you for saying so, sir. And I wanted to tell you, I laid the track from the capital to Leister. And the first train I got to engineer on my own made that very journey."

Harry smiled. "I am lucky enough to call Leister my home now. I've ridden that train many, many times. Though unfortunately I'm usually forced to stick to the roads with my schedule not lining up with that of the trains. Princess Louisa, I know, prefers the train whenever possible." That was a lie, but it was a kind one. Ruth didn't care at all about one mode of travel over another.

"Does she? That's very nice. And I hope the princess is doing well. My wife is ever so excited for the baby," Mr. Dooley gushed.

"Should be arriving any day now," Harry said proudly. "And speaking of which, Mr. Dooley, I should head back. Just in case she goes into labor, I don't want to miss it!"

"Oh yes, of course, sir! Got to get home to your missus. It's an exciting time!"

Harry shook Mr. Dooley's hand and accepted the well wishes. And then, thankfully, he was free.

Sam Buxton sung Harry's praises as they all sat in the back of the car on the drive to Leister. Thankfully they'd not been as far out as the capital, but it was still a bit of a journey from the suburbs to the palace. "Sir Harry, you did a fantastic job. You're getting so much better talking to people," she said.

It was a backhanded compliment, but Harry knew she wasn't wrong. "Thank you. I think I've started enjoying it, even."

Malcolm laughed at that.

"Alright, I don't enjoy it at all, but I understand why it's so important. And I am trying."

"If we can stop you from trying to attack photographers, that'll be progress," Sam pointed out.

Harry just grumbled to himself at that, not wanting to agree. He just hoped that the new baby would grow up to find his or her father's public ineptitude as funny as Graham and Catherine found it and not be saddened and ashamed the way Ruth was.

Finally, thankfully, they arrived back at Leister Palace. Harry went right upstairs with the intention of seeing Ruth. On the landing, he found little Wesley Carter toddling along. "Careful on the stairs, lad," Harry cautioned, picking up the eighteen-month-old with practiced ease. He knew that at this time of day, Fiona could be found sitting with Ruth for tea. Adam was probably supposed to be watching his son but had gotten distracted with a phone call or something.

He knocked on the half-open door, holding Wes with his other arm. Just as expected, Ruth was sitting up in bed with Fiona sitting in a chair beside her. Both women were sipping tea. "Hello, Sir Harry," Fiona greeted. "I see you've found my wayward child again."

Harry laughed, "Yes, I didn't want him to take a tumble. Figured I'd bring him to see his mummy."

Ruth was looking at Harry with a loving smile when she suddenly burst into tears.

"Oh Christ," Harry muttered to himself. To Ruth, he said, "Darling, please don't do that. There's no cause to get emotional about me holding Wes. I've had two children before. I know how to carry a baby. We've talked about this."

"I know," she said between hitched sobs. "I know it's stupid. But you're just so good with him! You're going to be such a wonderful father and I'm going to be useless!"

Harry looked to Fiona pointedly. She got the message. She put her teacup down and got up. "It's nearly time for his nap. Thank you, Sir Harry. I'll take him." Fiona took her child from Harry's arms and left, closing the door behind her.

Calmly, Harry took off his jacket and tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He kicked off his shoes and put everything away in the wardrobe. He did not say anything and just waited patiently for Ruth to stop crying. She knew it was the hormones making her act like that, and she was more embarrassed of it than anything. They'd both learned that Harry leaping to comfort and reassure her just made her more annoyed and upset. So he just ignored her till she got ahold of herself.

When he finished putting his things away, he crossed over to the bed and sat down beside her, placing an affectionate hand on her thigh. "Are you alright now?" he asked.

Ruth wiped her face and took a deep breath. "Yes, sorry."

He nodded. "Good." Then, just as he did every day when he got home from whatever he was doing, he greeted Ruth with a gentle kiss to her lips and then one to her enormous pregnant belly. "Hello, baby," he said softly.

"My due date is tomorrow. But I don't think we'll have our baby tomorrow," she said regretfully. "I have a feeling our stubbornness is going to be passed along to this little one."

"If not tomorrow, within the week, I'm sure," he reasoned.

"And then we can greet the baby by name."

He smiled. "Yes, that's true."

"What do you think, boy or girl?" she asked.

She'd been asking that question a few times a week for the last month or so. He'd never really answered it properly. He did now. "I want it to be a girl, but I think it'll be a boy."

"Wait, really?" Ruth exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes. I so rarely get what I want, so I think baby John will be joining us very soon. And I'll love and adore him with all my heart. So really, it doesn't matter what I want. Either way, we get to have a baby," he reminded her.

Ruth's eyes began to well up again, but she blinked it back. "I think it's a girl," she said.

"Why do you think it's a girl?"

"I don't know, I just do."

Harry had half a mind to tease her for not having anything to back up her beliefs, but he didn't want to. "I hope you're right. But you usually are right. You're much cleverer than me. So maybe baby Emilia will be in our arms."

Ruth frowned slightly, reaching out to caress his cheek. "Do you really think you never get what you want?"

"I didn't say never. I'd never say I never get what I want. Because I got to marry you. And if I never get anything I want ever again, that'll be enough."

She did start crying again at that. "Dammit, Harry!" she scolded as the tears fell.

Harry laughed and shifted to pull her into his arms and hold her while she cried. Their baby started kicking, and Harry could feel it against his own stomach the way he held his wife. Soon, he'd get to hold the both of them. Everything would be better for all of them very soon.


	45. Chapter 45

_Chapter Forty-Five_

Silence. The most beautiful, precious silence in all the world filled the room. They had been left alone and no one was talking or crying or bothering them at all. Just a beautiful silence. Harry reveled in it.

He paced the room, full of too much adrenaline and excitement to keep from moving around. He didn't want to move too much, though. Didn't want to jostle or disrupt anything.

"Would you come back over here, please?"

Harry turned to see Ruth lying in bed, propped up with a million pillows. She was leaning back and still looked absolutely exhausted. But for now, her eyes were open and her expression held a serene smile. Her brilliant blue eyes were bright and happy.

He crossed from where he'd been pacing to sit beside her in the bed. It wasn't their bed, of course, but one of the unused bedrooms of Leister Palace where Doctor Parkins and her team had set everything up. They'd slept in here—or passed out, rather—for the last two nights. But now hopefully they'd be returning to their own bedroom.

As carefully as he could, Harry sat on the edge of the bed and maneuvered himself to sit himself next to his wife. And together, they looked down at the beautiful sleeping face of their newborn baby daughter.

"She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Ruth murmured softly. She gently brushed her fingers over that pink little forehead and the wispy blonde curls already growing there. "I needed to look at her again. I wanted to be sure I was remembering her right. I couldn't believe she was so perfect, but she is."

"Yes," Harry agreed, "she is absolutely perfect." And she was. Their Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa was absolutely perfect.

"She looks like you," Ruth noted.

"Does she?" he asked. "How can you tell?" In his mind, beautiful and perfect as she was, Emilia was a pink squalling scrunched up little thing. Newborns rarely look like much of anything, after all. Their baby was only about twenty-four hours old, and this had been the first time she'd slept.

"Yes," Ruth insisted. "She's got your hair already, blonde and curly. And her nose is just like yours. And that beautiful pouty lower lip is all you as well." As she described each feature, Ruth's index finger ghosted over them on their baby's face.

"I'm sure she'll end up being much prettier than me," Harry teased. "But if I recall correctly, she's got your eyes."

"Has she? Well they might darken, right? Don't most babies start off with blue eyes?"

Harry did not actually know the answer to that. He'd not seen either Catherine or Graham until about a week after they were born, thanks to his work. With Catherine, he'd been in the midst of tactical drills with his regiment and had not left the base right away when word had reached him that Jane had given birth. And then with Graham, the country was on the brink of war and he'd once again not made himself available away from his command.

But this was much different. Harry himself was different and his marriage to Ruth was so different than his marriage to Jane. He would not have missed the birth for anything in the world. It was the most miraculous thing. Harry had sat right beside Ruth just like they were sitting now. Doctor Parkins had been shouting instructions from underneath a sheet draped over Ruth's open legs. Ruth, bless her, had whimpered in pain and held Harry's hand very tightly. Her breathing came in pants and she moaned. Her hair had ended up plastered to her red and sweaty face. Harry did his best to push it away and hold her hand and encourage her, but it was awful to see her in such miserable pain.

And then, finally, after being in labor all through the night, their Emilia had come crying into the world just after dawn. Two weeks after his forty-sixty birthday, Harry Pearce had become a father for the third time.

He was absolutely overjoyed and smitten with his baby daughter. He could not stop staring at her, could not put her down, could not even breathe properly for being so overwhelmed with his love for this baby in his arms. "Look at her, Ruth," he said in awe.

"I am looking, Harry."

"She's ours. Yours and mine. You made her."

Ruth chuckled at his slight blubbering. "I never imagined I could ever create anything so wonderful."

"Oh I could," he disagreed. He tore his eyes away from Emilia to look at Ruth and kiss her cheek. "Only you could make something as wonderful as her." Harry looked back down at the baby, who shifted amidst the blankets wrapped around her. "Isn't that right, Princess Emmy? You come from your amazing mummy. Yes, sweet girl, you do."

"What did you just call her?" Ruth asked curiously.

"Well she is a princess, isn't she?"

Ruth's brow furrowed slightly. "Yes, but did you call her Emmy?"

"I think it fits her, don't you?" Harry asked in return.

After half a beat's pause to consider it, Ruth smiled. "Yes, actually, I think it does." She leaned down to brush her lips to the baby's forehead. "You're our perfect little Emmy," Ruth whispered.

Harry thought his heart might burst with joy. Since the moment the baby was born, he kept thinking he couldn't possibly be happier and then something else happened to make the feeling grow. All through hearing her first cries and seeing her for the first time and getting to hold her. Then when Ruth breast fed her and the nurses helped assist with everything. Doctor Parkins took such wonderful care of Ruth, and Harry got to hold the baby while they dealt with the afterbirth and everything else. Later, when the chaos had calmed, Graham had come in to meet his new baby sister. Harry held her while Graham greeted her, and Harry nearly cried. His son was growing up into a man, now over eighteen years and heading to university in just a few weeks. And from that very university, Catherine arrived in the evening from school upon hearing the news. She had curled up on the bed beside Ruth who introduced Emilia to her big sister. Harry had watched with a lump in his throat and a radiant warmth filling him.

And now, it was just the three of them. Harry and Ruth and Emmy. It was quiet and beautiful, and despite not having slept in two nights, Harry had never ever been happier in all his life.

But, of course, it could not last. A soft knock came at the door. Fiona poked her head in. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but we have a visitor," she said.

"No visitors yet. Tell them to bugger off," Harry said, not taking his eyes off Emmy's sweet little face. She yawned and Harry nearly started to cry again. Her eyes fluttered and opened, revealing bright eyes exactly the same stormy blue as Ruth's. Harry somehow instinctively knew they'd remain that color for the rest of Emilia's life.

Despite Harry's brusque instruction, the door opened and the visitor walked in. "I don't think you're supposed to say that about the king, Harry."

Harry looked up to see King James walk in. Fiona closed the door behind him, leaving the family their privacy.

"Hi, Dad," Ruth said, her voice thick with emotion. She reached her arms out to her father.

The king came right over to his daughter and bent down to hug her. "Hello, dear," he greeted, kissing her cheek. He straightened up with a smile. I hear my daughter's got a daughter of her own now."

Ruth beamed, tears shining in her eyes. "This is Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa. Harry won't put her down, so good luck wrestling your granddaughter out of his arms."

James chuckled at that. "I was the same way with you. Your mother got so cross with me, thinking you might never learn to walk because I held you so much. Your Emilia will be all the better for a father who adores her, I think. From experience, I can say it's worked out quite well."

Harry smiled. "Since you're a special case, I'll let you hold her," he said. He held the baby out to her grandfather.

"Oh Ruth, she's wonderful," he gushed. "Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa, I apologize that it's my fault you've got so many names. But they're very good names, and I'm sure you'll grow into them."

"Until she does, she can just be little Emmy Pearce," Harry pointed out.

King James looked up at Harry and then to Ruth. "You didn't tell him."

Ruth frowned. "Oh," she said flatly.

Harry wasn't quite sure what was going on. "Tell me what?"

Chewing on her lips as she often did when she was nervous. "Erm, well, because she's an heir to the throne, she…she has to be of the House Everard. That's the name that has to be on her official records and things."

"Oh," Harry said in surprise. He'd not realized that his child could not have his name. She wasn't a Pearce. Catherine and Graham were. But Emilia wouldn't be.

"I…I should have said before. Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," Ruth stammered, getting a bit worked up.

Harry turned back to her and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Shh, don't get upset. It's alright, Ruth."

"But it's not alright! She's your daughter and she should have her father's name just like any child born anywhere else in the country. It's not fair," she insisted.

"It's fine," he assured her, squeezing her hand. "I don't think there's any doubt in who her father is. She's got my mother's name and she's got my hair and my nose, you said so yourself. She won't ever use a last name anyway. She's Princess Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa of Leister. That's her full name and it will be her name until she's queen, isn't that right?"

Ruth nodded.

"Right then. She doesn't need my name. And even if I did care about that sort of thing, we've got Graham to carry on the Pearce name. Emmy wouldn't have kept Pearce forever anyway, not once she got married. At least this way she'll always be in the House Everard. That's more important anyway, right?" he reasoned.

A bright smile appeared on Ruth's face and she leaned in to kiss him soundly.

"You know, before you got married, my father said to me once that we might all be better for having Major Pearce in our family. I don't know that my dad was ever wrong about anything important. He certainly wasn't wrong about you, Harry," King James said.

Harry felt quite honored to hear that. He wished that the old king could have lived to meet Emmy. Though if it weren't for the series of tragedies leading to King James inheriting the crown, they might not have ever had any children at all. But things have a way of working themselves out, Harry supposed. The loss of Ruth's beloved grandfather had, in its way, brought about their perfect baby daughter.

The baby herself started fussing in her grandfather's arms. "Oh dear, little one, do you want your mummy and daddy? Is that what you need?" he cooed to her.

"She might need a feed," Ruth speculated.

"Ah. That might be my cue to go." He kissed the now-crying baby on the cheek and handed her to Ruth, kissing her on the cheek, too. "There's a crowd of reporters outside the gates. Malcolm and Adam have been wrangling them. I'll give them a statement that Jo prepared. The press release of her gender and name and that everyone is happy and healthy went out yesterday. But you'll have to deal with them later this afternoon," he warned.

Ruth sighed heavily. "Sam warned me, yes."

Harry tried to focus on the fussing baby and not on the indecency of having to stand on the palace steps to pose for photographs as an announcement of the royal birth. But Sam had warned him of this as well, thankfully. Catherine and Graham would stand with them, showing the happy blended family all together.

That thought cheered him significantly. The whole family.

King James left and Ruth situated herself to feed the baby. As Emmy suckled happily to have her breakfast, Harry realized that everyone he loved was under this roof right now. Ruth and Emilia beside him, Graham and Catherine down the hall. Malcolm and Adam and Fiona and all the rest of the staff keeping them all safe. Ruth's father, the king, as the bright sun around which they all orbited. There would be plenty to deal with later, of course, plenty to make him grumpy again, but for now, in this moment of silence, everything was perfect.


	46. Chapter 46

_Chapter Forty-Six_

The sound of a crying baby echoed in Ruth's head. She wasn't sure if it was real or not. She seemed to hear it all the time. She would wake up in the middle of the night, hurrying to the nursery to see to Emmy. More than once, she'd found that the baby was fast asleep and that Ruth had imagined her crying.

Harry was worried about her, she knew. He would always wake up with her and come bring her back to bed. Or if the baby really was crying, he'd sit up with her while she breastfed. But thanks to the complete lack of sleep, they were both starting to lose their minds a little bit.

The fact of the matter was that motherhood was unlike anything Ruth had ever done before. She had no experience with children whatsoever. And she didn't really have anyone who could teach her how to do all these things. Her mother and grandmother were both gone. Juliet was absolutely useless and had not been invited to meet the baby nor had she asked for the opportunity to do so. Thank god for Fiona, showing her things like how to properly swaddle the baby and tricks for breastfeeding and such. Fiona was the most natural mother Ruth had ever seen. She seemed to do wonderfully with Wes. Ruth, meanwhile was quite useless with Emilia.

Oh Ruth loved her baby. Loved her more than anything in the world. But more often than not, Ruth just had no idea what she was doing. She'd been afraid of this, that she wouldn't be good at being a mother. She'd never wanted to, after all, and now it seemed her predictions were correct. She was so tired and so miserable and so utterly hopeless. It was hard to even be happy about anything, what with all the difficulty. Emmy was nearly a month old, and as far as Ruth could see, none of it was getting any easier or making any sense at all.

Thankfully Ruth was given some time off from royal duties. Dad wasn't in treatment again till next month, and Harry had been filling in wherever he could between what Juliet was doing. Ruth wasn't good at the royal things on a good day, never mind being sleep deprived and depressed. Hopefully she could have another few weeks to recover. For now, she would just do her best to forget she was a princess and now her daughter was cursed with being a princess, too.

"What do you think, hmm? Think they'll let me stay here with you forever just like this?" Ruth asked aloud.

She was sitting in the rocking chair in Emilia's nursery, watching her baby in the cot. She could see that the baby was not actually crying, despite the sound in her mind. Ruth kept where she was. She was wary about holding the baby too often, because once she picked her up, it was nearly impossible to put her down. She'd need a feed or a change any minute, surely, so Ruth just left her there for now. She could just sit there and talk softly to her sweet swaddled baby.

"Your daddy's right, you've got my eyes," Ruth remarked with a smile. And it was true, Emilia had big, bright eyes just that same stormy blue as Ruth's. "My eyes are really the only part of me I ever thought was particularly noteworthy. The rest of me is sort of ordinary. Don't tell your dad I said that, though. He has different opinions, but that's just because he loves me. Still amazes me, actually, that he loves me so much. I'm so very lucky. We both are. You're going to be strong and brave because he's your dad. And you've got his beautiful curly blonde hair. But I'm just so glad you've got the best part of me. And as you grow up, I bet you'll be even better than me or your dad ever dreamed."

Ruth was starting to get a little emotional, so she had to stop talking and swallow back the lump in her throat. Oh that baby was absolutely everything she'd ever dreamed of. It was overwhelming to contemplate that Ruth herself had grown Emilia in her body and given birth to this small little thing, a tiny person in her own right.

"I love you, sweet girl," she murmured, blinking back the tears.

A soft knock came at the closed door, causing Ruth to wipe her eyes and clear her throat.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened and a very relieved expression on her husband's face. "Hope I'm not disturbing," he said softly.

"No, not at all. We're just having a little rest."

"Naptime?"

"No, I'm too tired to sleep. If that makes any sense," she lamented.

Harry nodded, crossing over to her. He knelt down beside her rocking chair and she leaned into him. He took her in his arms and stroked her hair and rubbed her back. "I know, darling," he commiserated. "It'll be alright."

Ruth wanted to argue, to tell him he had no idea if it would be alright or not, that he had no business saying things like that. But she had absolutely no energy to pick a fight. She just closed her eyes and breathed in the faded scent of his aftershave where her face was pressed into his neck.

He pulled back just enough to kiss her softly. "How was your day today?"

"Alright," Ruth answered. She didn't have much else to say. She did not know where the time had gone. How was it already late enough in the day that Harry was home from work? Ruth hadn't even managed to shower or change out of her pajamas. "How was your day?" she asked, rather than try to contemplate her own situation.

Harry grumbled in annoyance. He stood up and went to the cot to pick up his baby daughter. Ruth didn't bother to chide him for it. If Emmy got upset and needed something, he'd handle it. He was already better at changing diapers than Ruth was. He was better at most parenting things than Ruth was. She tried not to be bitter and instead forced herself to be grateful that their daughter had a father who was more competent than her mother.

"Bad day?" she asked, taking the grumpy muttering for a sure sign of it.

"It was fine, I suppose. Erin's starting to take more liberties. I'm hoping I can hold onto the job until you become queen, whenever that is, but she's certainly chomping at the bit for it."

Ruth felt for him for that, feeling pushed out of the one thing he actually enjoyed about his life. But she did also feel a twinge of resentment that he was allowed to still have his job while she was precluded from doing anything other than princess-ing. "She's very good. And ambitious. It's only natural she should push for more."

"Yes, I know," Harry responded. "I can't really blame her. I just…well, I miss the old days when it was just you and me running the department."

She smiled sadly. "Yes, me too."

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

Ruth didn't say anything to that. She just sat limply in the rocking chair, watching Harry walk around the room with the baby in his arms.

"Erin's not so bad. But that bodyguard is pushing it," he went on.

That caused a little chuckle from Ruth. It had been over a year since he'd been forced to accept his own personal bodyguard, and he still hadn't fully adjusted to it. Back when they were dating and first married, Tom had been Ruth's bodyguard and served the whole Pearce family until Edmund's death and the forced move to Leister. Now, Adam had taken the family's security very seriously and each one of them had their own guards along with the regular guards for Leister Palace itself. Dimitri had been very good to Ruth and she enjoyed having the former Special Forces officer protecting her. Harry, on the other hand, had been assigned a former Foreign Intelligence officer who was far less focused and serious than Dimitri. And if that weren't enough, the fact that Dimitri had very classic good looks and was at peak physical condition made Harry practically beg Adam to swap his bodyguard with Ruth's.

"Zaf's a good lad. I know he is. He's perfectly competent at his job. He wouldn't have been able to join the Royal Guard if he wasn't. But Christ, does he have to keep making those bloody jokes?" Harry complained.

"What's he done this time?" Ruth asked, placating her whining husband.

"He just chatters all the bloody time. I can't believe I miss Tom being quiet and sullen and silently judgmental. At least he kept it to himself."

Ruth couldn't help but laugh. "Harry, Zaf is wonderful. Be nice to him. To think, I was hoping having a baby would make you less grumpy," she teased.

Harry kissed their baby's forehead. "She does make me less grumpy. When I'm with her. But I've still got to go to work and be driven around by a chatty bodyguard. Security officers shouldn't be so cheerful. It's off-putting," he complained.

"You'd better get used to him, because you know Adam won't let you have Dimitri instead."

"I still think he's too attractive to be spending all his time with my wife," he grumbled.

"Oh hush. It's uncharitable to me to be jealous of my attractive bodyguard."

"Did you just call him attractive?" Harry asked in slight shock.

"He is attractive. But I'm married to you. And that's all there is to it. Alright?" Her voice went a bit more stern than she'd intended, but she was too tired to worry about her tone.

Thankfully, Harry smiled. "Good." With that, he crossed over to bend down and kiss her. Before the kiss could get to heated, however, Emmy started to fuss.

Ruth pulled back. "Give her here, I think she needs to be fed."

Harry put their daughter in Ruth's arms and watched with awe and affection as Ruth rearranged herself to feed Emmy. At first, she'd not really thought much of the way Harry watched her breastfeed. Then she wondered if it was odd that he should be so enamored with the simple act. But she'd landed rather solidly in finding his fascination extremely endearing. She was feeding their child, and he was in awe of it all. Just as she'd told Emmy earlier, Harry loved her very much. Even if it was too incredible to believe sometimes, Ruth knew without a doubt that Harry loved her regardless of sleep deprivation and depression and grumpiness. He loved her no matter what.


	47. Chapter 47

_Chapter Forty-Seven_

"Ruth," came a soft voice.

She stirred slightly, not realizing that she'd been asleep. "Hmm?"

"Wake up, darling."

Harry's voice was still gentle but it was slightly more insistent this time. His fingers brushed her hair off her face. Oh she probably looked like an absolute fright. Ruth pushed herself up, groaning with the way her muscles ached from having fallen dead asleep on top of the bed lying perpendicular. She'd only wanted to lie down for a minute and rest her back. Emmy was getting bigger every day and had developed some colic. She was just shy of five weeks old and seemed to be constantly crying unless Ruth was feeding her or walking around bouncing her. And the ordeal had left both mother and baby rather cranky and exhausted.

"I'm sorry to wake you, I know you need your sleep, but it's dinnertime. Hopefully us and then Emmy and then bed for everyone. I know if you sleep now, you might have trouble tonight," Harry pointed out apologetically.

Ruth rubbed her face, trying to wake herself up again. "No, you're right. I didn't realize it was so late. I guess we should go down to dinner. Try and eat before Emmy needs to."

But Ruth spoke too soon. In the next breath, their baby had woken up crying. Ruth had figured out some of her cries. It was right what they say, that babies have different cries for different things. This wasn't a colic cry. That was similar to a cry of needing to be changed. That was a cry of discomfort. This cry was one of hunger. Ruth sighed, realizing they'd missed their window to have dinner themselves before the baby needed tending to.

"You go eat. I'll be down after I feed her," Ruth said to Harry, patting his hand resting on her thigh.

Harry shook his head. "No, I can wait. I'd rather spend some time with the two of you. And if you want, we can ask for some food to be brought up for us. We don't really take advantage of the fact that we've got a whole staff to care for our royal needs."

Ruth rolled her eyes. "The inconvenience of hunger and a month-old baby are not royal needs."

"Well you're a royal and you've got needs, how about that?"

She wasn't going to argue with him. She did not have the patience for it. Nor did she have the energy to form words. "I've got to feed her," she simply said.

"How about you get comfortable with the pillows and I'll bring her over, hmm?" Harry offered.

Ruth certainly wouldn't turn that down. "Alright."

Harry went to the adjoining room—the sitting room that they'd turned into a makeshift nursery until Emilia could sleep through the night in her own proper room down the hall—and Ruth got herself settled up on the bed with the pillows behind her back. It did feel quite nice.

Emmy was fussing but not crying and wailing when her daddy brought her into the room. He'd already unwrapped her from the swaddling blanket and her pink baby arms were stretched out and grasping the air, searching for her mummy.

As soon as she was placed in Ruth's arms, Emmy latched on and suckled happily. Ruth sighed and smiled. It was strange but rather nice to breastfeed. And despite not being a good sleeper yet, Ruth was relieved that their daughter was a very good eater. Harry sat on the edge of the bed beside Ruth's knees. He placed his hand on her pajama-clad leg and stroked it up and down. Ruth rather wished he wouldn't do that. It had been such a long time since he'd touched her. And she missed him very much. But getting turned on while their baby was feeding wasn't the most appropriate thing. Still, her skin sparked and a tension started to bubble low in her belly.

When Emilia moved her little face away, having had her fill for the time being, Ruth asked Harry to take her, which he did without question. She knew he was perfectly capable of easing her gas and getting her wrapped back up in her bassinet. And since there was a momentary quiet, Ruth re-settled herself on the bed, lying flat on her back.

Harry returned soon enough. "She seemed tired, thank goodness. Probably means she'll be awake and screaming at us at two in the morning, but it's good she's out for the time being.

Ruth hummed in agreement. She didn't look over, but she could feel by the shift of weight on the bed that Harry had come to lie beside her. His arms were around her before she knew it.

She turned her head to look at him and saw that beautiful shining look of love in his eyes. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him. Harry did not allow just a simple peck. He moved his lips on hers and deepened the kiss with passion. "I've missed you," he whispered when they broke apart for air.

"God, me too," she said sadly. "I was just thinking that it's been so bloody long. We've both been busy, and I've been so tired. That's not fair at all. I know it's perfectly alright since I'm properly healed and recovered and all, I'm just afraid I'll just fall asleep in the middle of whatever I try to do."

"I know Ruth," he replied soothingly. His hands were wandering her body again. "I know you're tired. But, let me help you relax, darling. Let me take away all the stress and the exhaustion. Let me pleasure you," he begged. He rolled her onto her back and settled himself on top of her. But instead of kissing her lips and her neck and palming her breasts, he scooted himself down the bed.

"Oh Harry, you don't need to…_oh_!" She had tried to make some kind of protest before he lifted up her top and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her belly. The stretch marks and extra skin were starting to go away, but the fact that Ruth had given birth just over a month ago was wildly apparent. But Harry was undeterred. His lips and tongue caressed her skin, causing Ruth to sigh with the joy of it. When he reached the hem of her pajama pants, he paused, and Ruth hummed in acceptance. Harry chuckled and pulled them down her legs. He caught her thighs in the cage of his hands, spreading her legs apart. He dragged his teeth over the cotton barrier of her knickers, making her shudder.

Ruth made absolutely no attempt to stop him, so Harry wasted no time in pulling her knickers off her and burying his face between her legs. His tongue and lips went to work on her, tracing her folds and swirling his tongue over her and sucking hard and plunging inside her. She was getting wetter and wetter as he continued his efforts. Her thighs clenched rhythmically around his ears and her hips grinded against his face. Ruth had to press her lips together to keep from moaning too loudly and waking up Emilia.

She felt a sort of madness overtake her. She could barely breathe as electric jolts lit up her nerve endings and shot through her body. Harry was so incredibly good at this. From their first time together all those years ago, he had taken such pride in making her come against his mouth. Ruth appreciated his dedication more than she could say. It made her feel wild and sexy and free. None of those were things she ever felt much of at all outside of their love life. And it had been so long since they'd had any love life at all what with the late pregnancy and now a newborn baby.

Harry had to hold her hips down as she jerked and spasmed with her climax. She gasped a bit loudly as pleasure pulsated through her core. But he did not relent. He allowed her to ride the waves of this first orgasm before letting go of her hip with one hand and shiting where he lay to thrust his fingers inside her. He started with one, then two, then three, curling up to reach that place that would undo her, twisting and pounding into her as he built her up again. She was thrashing around on the bed, whimpering and biting her lips to keep from crying out. And finally, she shattered for him again. He did not slow until he had brought her a third orgasm on the heels of the second.

Ruth went limp as she gasped for air and twitched with the aftershocks. Only then did Harry let go of her and crawled back up the bed. He rolled Ruth to her side, ridding her of her top at the same time, once her breathing was slowing to a safer rate. He pressed himself against her back, his cock hard against the pert swell of her bum. Somewhere in between, he'd undressed himself. He kissed the side of her neck and murmured, "My Ruth, my love, my darling," over and over and over.

His words were music to her. Music to harmonize with the thrumming melody of pleasure coursing through her body. The feeling of his bare skin on hers was like a long-awaited blessing. Oh she'd not felt this good in so very long! She smiled and lifted her leg to curl back over his thigh. Harry got the message and slid inside her soaking wet warmth. Ruth sighed happily at the sensation of him filling her.

Harry began to move inside her. It was not a hard, desperate coupling. No, he was savoring their union and every movement with his shining love and adoration. He moved slowly and methodically, rocking in and out of her, dragging his cock against her inner walls so each of them felt every single inch of it.

As they continued on, Harry's hands wandered down to stroke her in time to his thrusts. She keened for him, quiet but needy. "Harry," she moaned just as she came again.

That rolling, clenching of her body on his was more than enough to send him over the edge. He gave a gasping sort of grunt, pressing his face into her neck to muffle the sound as he spilled inside her with a few spurts.

He held her close for a long time. Ruth was almost passed out from the exhaustion of everything, but she could feel him against her and inside her. He was going soft, but she didn't mind. She didn't want to let him go yet. Eventually, however, he did slip out of her and got out of bed.

Ruth felt him between her legs, this time with a wet flannel. She twitched at the touch to her overly sensitive skin, but she did feel better for being cleaned up. "It's dinnertime," she mumbled, remembering what they were going to do.

Harry laughed at that, his joyful, wheezy laugh. "You rest, darling, and I'll get dressed and talk to the kitchen. I can get something to bring up and we can eat in bed. But you rest till then."

Only about half of what he said really entered her mind, but he'd said to say in bed and rest. "Okay," she sighed. She felt Harry kiss her gently, and she smiled.


	48. Chapter 48

_Chapter Forty-Eight_

It did not escape Ruth's notice that this was her first time leaving Leister in three months. She'd been on bedrest the last few weeks of her pregnancy and now with Emmy just ten weeks old, there hadn't been much cause or opportunity for escape. Not that being away from her child was any escape. Ruth could hardly bear to let the baby out of her sight except to sleep, which had thankfully started becoming a bit easier for everyone now. And if it weren't absolutely necessary, Ruth would not have left her now. But Emmy was safe at home with Fiona and Ruth was needed elsewhere.

In a way, it was good that Ruth was the only one available. She worried about how Harry would take all of this. She wanted to figure out what was going on and then tell him what he needed to know so he could make a decision going forward. That was how they did things. That was the heart of their relationship, one of the things she was proudest of. Harry trusted her and relied on her, and she could be honest with him and rely on him to do what needed to be done.

Harry was so good at doing what needed to be done that he was off giving a speech to a committee on economic expansion on behalf of the king. Dad was in treatment today, meaning he'd be unable to do much of anything until next week. Harry and Juliet took over whatever needed doing during those times, coordinating with Jo at the palace and Sam and Malcolm at Leister. They'd all done very well so far. As far as Ruth knew, there wasn't anything odd about other members of the royal family taking on various duties and public appearances.

Yet another thing weighing on her mind. Dad's health had not improved. They all knew it wouldn't. But he was starting to get slightly worse. The treatments were taking more of a toll on him now than they had at the beginning. She worried about him more than he would want her to, she knew, but she couldn't help it. She was a brand-new mother and she was rapidly approaching the day she'd become queen. And she was absolutely bloody terrified. She could scarcely think of something she wanted less than become queen. But of course she would do it and somehow muddle through as best she could. Harry tried to convince her she'd be a good queen but who was he kidding? She was not born to be queen. It was a blood clot in her uncle's brain that had thrust this destiny upon her. And there wasn't a single thing she could do about it.

"Remain in the car, please. I have to speak to Zoe for security before I can let you go in."

Ruth looked up when Dimitri spoke to her from the front of the car. "Yes, that's fine."

Her mind was brought back to the present. Her first venture off the Leister estate had to be this. The phone rang at the house, asking for Harry or Malcolm. But of course neither of them were in. So Ruth was summoned instead. After all, someone needed to know that Graham had been arrested.

Zoe, Graham's bodyguard, had been able to get the charges dropped and have him sent into her custody to return to his dormitory at the university. The press had not gotten wind of it, thankfully. As far as they knew so far, at any rate.

When Zoe had called Leister Palace to tell Ruth what had happened, the poor woman had tried very hard to explain it away, to say that exams had just finished, that Graham was just out with some mates, that she'd been with him the whole time.

"Was he drunk?" Ruth asked sharply, interrupting whatever else Zoe had tried to explain.

"He…well, yes," she admitted.

Ruth felt her heart sink in her chest. "Does that a lot, does he?" She didn't wait for Zoe to answer that. She knew the answer already. "What was he arrested for?"

"Public intoxication. He was pretty belligerent to the officer."

"I can imagine," Ruth muttered. That boy was more like his father every day, it seemed. Ruth had only seen Harry properly drunk on a small handful of occasions. Usually, they were having fun. But if anything at all didn't go his way, Harry had a stubborn streak that made him absolutely impossible. Ruth wasn't surprised at all to hear that Graham, in a state of intoxication, had argued with a police officer and gotten himself arrested.

Despite Zoe's insistence that everything was alright, Ruth could not just let this go. She needed to talk to Graham. And so here she was, waiting in the car in front of Graham's dormitory hall, waiting for Dimitri to come collect her and bring her to go speak to her son. Stepson. No, she shook her head at that correction. Graham was her son in all the ways that mattered. She loved him fiercely and wanted more than anything for him to be safe and happy. Right now, she'd wager he was neither.

Dimitri returned a moment later, looking grave. Ruth felt a wave of nausea overcome her so quick, she had to press her hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting on his shoes as he opened the car door for her. He took the hint and pulled her out of the car and turned her toward a clear spot on the drive where she threw up all her breakfast.

"Jesus, are you alright?" he asked with shock and concern.

"Fine," she answered weakly. She was anxious about this whole thing with Graham. And not to mention the fact that she was still breast feeding and her hormones were still going absolutely haywire. She'd been sick on and off the last three days, but it passed quickly. Just as it did now. Dimitri brought her some water and a handkerchief to clean her up, and other than some lingering butterflies, she was all better. "Right. Sorry. Let's go," she insisted.

Ruth found Graham in his dormitory, lying on the bed in a sprawling position that was only feasible for an eighteen-year-old boy. If Harry were here, he'd probably bark Graham's name and scare him witless. Ruth did not have the same sort of natural gravitas or temper as her husband. She took a different approach.

Zoe and Dimitri were standing watch by the door, giving Ruth her privacy. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on Graham's calf. He was wearing pajamas, so at least he'd managed to get himself to bed properly. "Graham," she called softly.

He moaned in response.

"Graham," she repeated, a bit louder, giving him a gentle shake.

The boy snorted and scrambled upright. "Wha…?"

She waited patiently for him to orient himself. He probably had a splitting headache.

After a moment, he blinked and looked at her. "Ruth? What's going on? Why are you here?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"You were arrested last night."

He started to laugh. "Oh, that? Nothing to worry about. You should have seen Zoe with those officers. She's amazing. Best benefit to all this stupid royal bullshit, I think."

Ruth swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to let herself get upset. "Graham, I think we have a problem."

"Do we?" he asked facetiously.

"You do. And because I love you, that means it's my problem, too."

Graham rolled his eyes. "Ruth, this isn't a big deal. I was just having a bit of fun. Catherine goes out drinking with her friends after exams."

"Catherine doesn't get arrested. And Catherine doesn't spend half her nights out drinking with her friends the way you do."

"So?" he challenged.

She chewed on her lips, feeling a little nauseous again as she tried to find the words. "Do you think…just for me, just so I don't keep worrying…do you think you could take a month off from going out drinking with your friends? Just one whole month without alcohol?"

He stared at her incredulously. "What? Why would I do that?"

"Please, Graham."

"No, I don't want to!" he protested.

"But could you, if you did want to?" she asked in return.

Graham faltered.

Ruth exhaled slowly. "That's what I was worried about."

He recovered quickly. "Fine. One month. Tell Zoe, she never lets me out of her sight. She can report to Adam. And after a month, you'll give up this insane worrying?"

"Yes," she agreed. "One month without a drop of alcohol and I'll stop worrying. Then you can do whatever you want so long as you stay out of trouble. And I'm quite serious about that, Graham. I know you've got no interest in anything about royal life, but it is the life I lead and it is our family duty, so please show a bit more respect for me and my father at the very least when you're in public. That includes not getting drunk and shouting at a police officer. Zoe might not be able to get the charges dropped next time, and all we need is for your transgressions to be in the newspapers along with everything else."

"Screw up in private, is that it?" he glowered.

"Don't screw up at all. And count yourself lucky that it's me coming here to talk to you and not your father."

Graham scoffed, "Dad doesn't care."

That statement hurt Ruth very much, but she could not dig into it just now. "Try this again and see if that holds true," she warned.

The nausea was starting to return, and Ruth knew she needed to leave this stuffy little room as soon as possible. She stood up and tried to take some deep breaths.

"I'll leave you to sleep it off. But remember what I said. One month, Graham."

He nodded. "Yeah, one month."

She gave a tight smile and turned to leave.

"Oh, Ruth?"

"Yes?" she replied, pausing and turning back to him.

Graham smiled. "Give Emmy a kiss for me."

Ruth would have smiled back at him, but the mere mention of the baby was nearly too much for her. The nausea threatened to make her vomit again and tears pricked her eyes. She had to get home right now.

As she sat in the back of the car, taking slow breaths of the fresh air from the open window, Ruth tried to hold fast to Graham's promise. One month. If he could go a whole month without drinking, perhaps she was worrying about nothing. This was a youthful transgression, and he'd get over it soon enough. Yes, everything would be just fine. She had to believe that. If she didn't…well, she'd probably just end up vomiting again either way.


	49. Chapter 49

_Chapter Forty-Nine_

Harry was getting home late. He didn't like getting home late. Between his Foreign Intelligence work and his royal duties, he was out of the house far too much as it was. He had a wife and a baby daughter at home, and he wanted to see them.

Ruth was in her last week of maternity leave, such as it was. Emmy was sleeping through the night and adhering to a schedule, thankfully, so Ruth was at last able to get some proper rest. Sam was eager to schedule things for the crown princess; she'd been out of the public eye for almost four months, aside from posing for press photos that first day of Emilia's life. Since then, she'd been getting used to being a mother. Harry had done all he could to help her at home and take on all those royal things they both hated so much. He was gladder than he could say that he'd get to go back to focusing on his actual job. He knew his days with the army were numbered; he'd already accepted that he'd not get to do anything except the royal nonsense once Ruth became queen. And if he had to give it up sooner than that, he'd come to terms with it. But for now, he'd cling to it as much as he could.

Unfortunately, it was not the work itself that had kept him late today. He spoke with Zoe every day at four o'clock. The conversation went a little long today, as this marked the end of one full week for Graham at the rehabilitation center.

After the arrest when Ruth had gone to speak with him, he'd promised to stay sober for a whole month. Ruth had told Harry all of this later and dealt with his rather explosive rage rather well. Then again, she always seemed to deal with him quite well. And it was best, he had to admit, that he hadn't been told about the incident right away. Ruth did the best possible thing under the circumstances, and Harry was pleased about that.

But Graham, of course, was far too clever for them all. Despite Zoe keeping a close watch on him, he'd tricked her into thinking he'd been keeping away from alcohol for a whole month. And then on the last day of that month, he had called Leister to speak to Ruth. He confessed that he'd been sneaking a drink here and there. After three days, he'd been going out of his mind without a drink. And he'd snuck around and he couldn't give it up. He had called Ruth to ask for help. She'd told Harry later that Graham had been crying over the phone.

Harry had put Malcolm on it, finding a good facility not too far away that would be discreet. The last thing they needed on top of discovering that Graham Pearce was an alcoholic at age nineteen was to have the press find out. And the next morning, Harry had driven himself—with Zaf following close behind—to the university to pick up his son. Zoe rode with Zaf, and Harry drove Graham out to the country estate that had once belonged to a relative of Ruth's but had since been converted to a rehabilitation center. He would be spending sixty days drying out and finding out how to manage his addiction.

The whole affair had been Harry's sole focus, despite the other duties taking up his time. His mind was on his son, on the difficulties that Harry had spent so long ignoring. Ruth had known. She'd seen, she'd tried to tell him. Harry had just brushed it off. Why hadn't he listened to her sooner? Why hadn't he allowed himself to see that Graham was suffering? Harry hadn't been a good father a single day of that boy's life, and he was paying for it now. They all were. He'd thought he was doing better, had grown and changed and figured out how to be a better parent. Perhaps he'd just kidded himself.

And, of course, now that he was a father once again, he was terrified of failing Emilia the same way he'd failed Graham. Catherine seemed to have turned out alright, but he'd probably screwed her up some other way.

These depressing thoughts of failed fatherhood filled Harry's mind as Zaf drove him home from the capital. He'd go home and give a kiss to Ruth and to Emmy and have dinner with his wife and everything would surely be alright. Of course, by the time Harry got out of the car, it had started snowing. He grumbled as he hurried up the front steps and inside. Harry did not enjoy the snow. Cold and bloody inconvenient.

His bad mood persisted as he went straight up to Emilia's nursery. She'd cheer him up, surely. That funny little blonde thing. Her eyes were just like her mother's, but so much of her was all him. It was incredible, actually. Harry hadn't imagined his features would make for a pretty little girl, but he thought she was the most beautiful child he'd ever seen. Well, he was biased, of course. Which reminded him, he'd have to talk to the king to get his help convincing Ruth that royal photographs for the baby's first birthday were a good idea. They didn't want her splashed all over the newspapers, but one picture couldn't hurt. The people should get to see their future queen, Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa. And Harry would be proud to show off his perfect child.

When he got upstairs to the nursery, he found Ruth sitting in the chair where she normally sat to feed the baby, rocking back and forth listlessly. Emilia was in her crib, fast asleep. Ruth didn't speak or seem to even notice when Harry entered the room.

"Everything alright?" he asked quietly, not wanting to wake the baby.

Ruth turned her head to look at him. He saw instantly that her eyes were bloodshot and her face was a bit red and puffy. She'd been crying.

He crossed over to her and took her hands, pulling her up from the chair. "Come along, let's let her sleep. I want to talk to you."

She followed where he led, back down the hall to their suite. Harry put Ruth on one end of the sofa and sat down beside her. Her clothes were rumpled, but at least she was wearing proper clothes. She'd been too overwhelmed to even get changed out of her pajamas some days. Today, she was wearing a long dark skirt and a simple blue top and matching cardigan. Her hair was a bit greasy and hanging around her face in lank tendrils. Harry reached over to brush it back behind her ear. Maybe he could convince her to take a shower with him later so he could wash it for her.

"What's wrong, Ruth?" He tried to keep his voice soft and gentle.

Ruth gave a huff and shook her head. Obviously she was in that sort of mood, frustrated with herself for her own feelings. The hormones had been difficult on her, feeling a bit insane and being smart enough to understand that she was losing her mind.

"Hmm?" he pressed.

"No, you…you first. How was your day?" she asked. Ruth turned to face him, curling her legs beneath her on the sofa. She reached out and softly brushed her fingers down his uniform. Wasn't often he got to wear it anymore, needing to be in a suit for his royal appearances.

"Nothing too interesting to report. But I spoke for a while to Zoe this afternoon. That's why I'm a bit late."

Ruth's brow furrowed, likely internally chiding herself for not even noticing that he was late. "How's Graham?" she asked warily.

"Settling well, by all accounts. He had a hard few days, as we know, with the detoxifying. He's been rather ill as his body readjusts to being without alcohol."

Tears welled up in Ruth's eyes and she blinked them back. "I can't believe it got so bad. How did we not know?"

Ruth did know, and they both knew it. But Harry did not want to open that conversation again. "He's getting the help he needs now, and that's what matters." He was also missing two months of school, and his courses would not wait for him. He'd have to make some very difficult decisions when he came home after his treatment. But again, a problem for another time.

After a quiet moment with Ruth staring at her hands fidgeting in her lap, she finally spoke. "I spoke to Doctor Parkins today."

"Oh that's right, I'd forgotten. What did she say? Is the nausea normal for being twelve weeks out from giving birth?"

"No, actually. She examined me and found everything in order. And she gave Emmy a perfect bill of health," Ruth added, smiling.

Harry tried to smile, but knowing that Ruth's illness wasn't normal was distressing. "What about you?"

Ruth sighed heavily and pressed on. "I told her how I'd been feeling, and she wanted to do some bloodwork. Expedited, since it's me. And then she called this afternoon with the results."

"And?"

"God, I can't even believe it but…Harry, I'm pregnant."

That news hit him like a pile of bricks. He'd not even considered that it was possible. It wasn't as though they were trying. And they'd had such difficulties conceiving Emmy. How could Ruth be pregnant _again_!?

Harry didn't say anything. He just whimpered quietly. Christ, he was going to be a father of four. After all the mess he'd caused his children already. He was bringing another into the world. Bloody hell, this was what he got for having unprotected sex with his wife. He was forty-six and she'd just given birth, this shouldn't have been possible! But of course it was. Rare and unlikely but certainly possible. And here they were.

And god, poor Ruth! She'd had a devil of a time being pregnant and giving birth the first time. She'd be breastfeeding for two years straight or something horrifying like that. He'd done this to her. He'd need to figure out how to apologize. How to thank her. How to…well, he needed to figure out what the hell they were going to do!

Ruth continued, "Doctor Parkins said I'm just past five weeks along. Which makes me think that we might have conceived that first time we made love after Emmy was born. It feels a little ridiculous, we worked so hard for her, now this one gets dropped in our laps on the first go. Or rather in my womb instead of our laps. I should have thought, I'm sorry, Harry."

"Sorry?" he repeated numbly.

"We barely wanted one baby, and now we're going to have two. I know you didn't want this."

"Stop that," he snapped.

She was taken aback. "What?"

"Don't ever say I don't want this. Any of it. That baby is going to be just as perfect and loved and adored as the one we've got down the hall. We might not have planned on two children, but unplanned is not unwanted. You are an incredible mother, Ruth, and you will be for this next one, too. And I'll…well, I don't know what I'll do, but anything you need from me, I'll give. Anything at all." Harry took Ruth's hand from her lap and squeezed it affectionately. "But I think we will have one difficulty with the situation," he realized.

"What's that?" she asked nervously.

"We used up all the names with the first baby. What if we have another girl? What are we going to call her?"

Ruth started to laugh, which was Harry's intent, and the tears fell down her cheeks. She leaned forward and threw her arms around Harry's neck. "I love you," she whispered.

Harry smiled and hugged her tight. "I love you, too." And he meant it. Both for Ruth and the new unborn baby growing inside her.


	50. Chapter 50

_Chapter Fifty_

Christmas was always a time of highest highs and lowest lows, in Harry's mind. There was always joy and celebration, but with that came responsibilities and stresses that were not present without the pressure of a holiday. He'd had good Christmases as a boy, but his mother had died just before Christmas, so the occasion that year had been darkened by grief. His father and brother and he never really bothered celebrating much after that. Then with Jane, he'd had a nice time at Christmas when Catherine and Graham were little, though he'd not been home for Christmas at all during the war. Malcolm had been in charge of buying and wrapping presents on Harry's behalf after Jane was gone, and all Harry did was show up for the day for the children to open their presents and run off to their rooms to play and otherwise ignore him. He and Malcolm would sit quietly and drink scotch by a roaring fire. That was about as festive as things got for those few years before…well, before Ruth had entered Harry's life and become the center of it all.

Before they were married, Ruth would not be able to spend Christmas with Harry and the children. She had royal responsibilities. And after they were married, Harry was obliged to participate in that as well. It was a bloody pain, but they all accepted that they had no choice, so they tried to make the best of it when they had to be in the palace from December twenty-third to the thirtieth.

Christmas for the royal family was actually quite quiet, just the immediate family at the palace to open presents and eat lunch all together. It was strange having to spend the week staying in the palace instead of their respective homes, particularly back when the family was much larger. King Richard in the master suites, Edmund and Juliet in one wing while James and Ruth and Harry and the children in another wing. Theirs was obviously much more crowded. But James always enjoyed spending time with the children, which gave Harry and Ruth some much needed time alone. They had a tradition for waking up Christmas morning that would be very inconvenient if interrupted by family. And usually their mouths were too busy to shout at people to bugger off.

This Christmas was different than any before. This Christmas was Emilia's first, and everyone wanted to make it very special. Ruth had nearly torn Harry's head off when she saw that he had conspired with her father to buy half a toy store for Emmy. Harry figured that Emmy wouldn't remember her first Christmas anyway, and the toys would be useful when the next baby arrived and the two could share. She'd eventually relented when the king had voiced his support for the idea, Ruth's babies having toys at home and at the palace whenever they visited. And Ruth would do anything her father asked. He asked for so little, and everyone knew—though no one ever said it directly—that he would not have very much time with his grandchildren, so they would all indulge him anything he wanted.

"Harry, I need your help with this zip."

He turned to see his wife come into the bedroom where Harry was tying his bowtie in the mirror. Each year on Christmas Eve, the royal family had formal photographs taken to be released in the newspaper for country on New Year's Day. All the men were in formal white tie and the women all wore incredible gowns. The royal members of the family—King James, Ruth, and Juliet—had their respective crown and tiaras.

Ruth stood there now, very visibly pregnant in the emerald green satin dress that highlighted her ever-growing belly. The gown flared out into a dramatic skirt and was very demure with its long sleeves. "Could you?" she asked, turning her back to him.

The zipper on the dress was only about halfway up. Harry abandoned his tie and came to assist her. Thankfully, her measurements had been taken only two days before at Leister to ensure the proper fit, so the zipper went up without a problem. Harry rearranged Ruth's cascading dark hair—much longer than he'd ever seen her wear it. It went well past her shoulders now. In truth, it was because she'd been out of the public eye and away from hairdressers for nearly six months, and when she'd started doing public events after maternity leave with Emmy, the consensus by the stylists was that the longer hair was lovely and could be styled in a way that would distract from the way they had to cake makeup on her face to keep her from looking haggard. Harry hadn't liked that at all when Ruth told him, but he could not help but admit, if only to himself, that it was true.

The dress was cut off the shoulder, so Harry took a moment to indulge in pressing soft kisses to her bare skin delighting in the approving hum she made. "That feels quite nice," she murmured.

"A bit of a preview for tomorrow morning," he replied softly. She shivered as his hot breath tickled her ear.

Ruth sighed happily. "I can't believe I'm pregnant two Christmases in a row, but thankfully we figured it out quite well last year."

Harry chuckled. "Yes, we did." It had taken some doing, but they'd figured out that if Harry put a pillow below his hips, he could raise himself up enough so Ruth didn't have to lean over too far with her belly getting in the way. She otherwise had no trouble maneuvering herself so her knees rested on either side of his head, and he could hold her in place just fine.

"Though thankfully I'm not so far along this year. Last time, I was almost worried we'd induce labor with all of that," Ruth recalled.

He kissed her neck again, careful to avoid all the makeup that the professionals had put on her. "I'll take that as a compliment that you react so well to my mouth."

"You've got a very talented mouth," she replied.

"As do you, darling," he whispered back.

A sharp knock on the door to their temporary bedroom jolted them out of whatever might have happened absent the well-timed interruption. "Someone wants to see Mum and Dad," came the king's voice.

Ruth pulled away from Harry and grinned excitedly, hurrying as best she could in her condition—pregnant and in heels and a formal gown was certainly a lot to contend with—to the door. She opened it to reveal the king, looking extremely regal and elegant, holding little Emmy in his arms. She, like the rest of the family, was dressed for the occasion. She had a frilly dress as white as the snow falling outside. Ruth took her daughter into her arms and hugged her close. "Look at you, lovie!" she gushed. "I cannot believe I've become the sort of mother to put her child in these stupid little dresses, but I can't help it! She looks just like a perfect little angel."

Harry had to agree with her there. Their little Emilia was smiling and her cheeks were perfectly pink and her bright blue eyes stood out with her curly blonde hair and the pretty white dress.

"Are we ready to go? The photographer's waiting."

From behind where the king was standing just inside the doorway, Harry caught a glimpse of his elder daughter. Catherine's long blonde hair was curled and swept to one side over her shoulder. Her brown eyes were piercing and intelligent with the way her makeup had been done. But it was the deep red strapless gown with the silver winter flowers on the neckline and waistline that made her look quite regal. It was utterly impossible to believe that this beautiful young woman was Harry's. She was his just as that beautiful baby in Ruth's arms was his. His two daughters, one nearly finished with university and one just starting her little life.

Catherine saw her father stare at her and get a bit misty, and she made a face of confusion. "What?" she demanded.

King James chuckled. "Leave your father alone, Catherine. He's having a bit of a time with his two daughters, I think. I'm having similar problems seeing my own daughter hold her baby like this." The king sighed, giving Ruth and Emmy a long look before turning to Harry. "Come on, Harry, let's go get this photo taken before we get too overwhelmed."

The two men led the way downstairs. Catherine carried Emmy, since Ruth couldn't be pregnant in heels and a formal gown going down three flights of stairs while also carrying a baby. Harry paused to offer to help her, but the vicious look on her face told him not to try. She could manage on her own.

They reached the throne room where the family always gathered for these annual photography sessions. The other two members of the family were already there waiting.

"Bloody hell, thank god," Graham muttered. He looked dapper and distinguished and like a grown man in his white tie and tails, but he also looked miserable. Though Harry couldn't blame him; the poor boy had been waiting with only Juliet to talk to.

The dowager queen stood there looking very elegant in her navy blue gown, also with long sleeves and off the shoulder like Ruth's but with much more adornment. She wore the same tiara she always had full of spires of emerald-cut diamonds. Apparently it had belonged to the late queen, Ruth's grandmother, and Edmund presented it to his bride on their wedding day. It was the only one that was hers for as long as she lived, while anything else of the royal jewels she wanted, she needed to ask permission to borrow. It was ostentatious but Harry knew the indignity of asking Ruth to borrow a tiara was more than Juliet wanted to bother with.

"That's the baby then," Juliet said with disdain, seeing Harry with Emmy in his arms.

"Yes," he replied warily. He was waiting for her to say something nasty so he could have a proper good row with her, Christmas be damned. Though it was probably for the best if she did not antagonize him while he held his baby.

Juliet just hummed judgmentally. Harry opened his mouth to challenge her, to ask how she or anyone else could possibly find fault with this perfect baby girl, but a hand on Harry's arm gave him pause. Ruth stood by, giving him a warning look. He just sighed and let it go.

The photographer arranged everyone the way he wanted them, King James sitting in the throne. Ruth standing to his right, angled to specifically show off her pregnancy. Harry could see she didn't like that one bit, but luckily Graham was positioned beside her and he was good at keeping Ruth in good spirits. Now that he was sober and home with the family for the holidays, things were much better.

Harry stood on the king's left with Princess Emilia. Catherine stood beside him. Juliet, much to her chagrin and to everyone else's amusement, was stood behind Ruth and barely visible. They all gave their best regal expressions as the photographer took a number of shots.

The photographer then instructed everyone to step away except the royal succession. The king took Emmy to hold his granddaughter and Ruth stood beside him. The three of them looked beautiful together.

"Hard to believe that Emmy's going to be queen one day," Catherine noted, standing beside Harry and looking on.

He nodded. "Ruth will be queen before that. Things are going to change even more than they already have."

"Hopefully not for a while. The king seems alright for now."

Harry hummed in agreement. They all knew not to be too optimistic. They had to be ready for the inevitable.

Catherine added, "I'm glad you and Ruth had a baby to be the next queen after her. I know I'm not part of the succession, but it seems like a rotten job. Let Emmy do it."

It did not seem real to Harry, sometimes, that his baby daughter was going to be queen one day. It felt impossible. Emmy was only six months old. But her whole life was set in stone in front of her. She did have the advantage that Ruth had not possessed, being born into her role. Ruth was still learning what it was to be next in line for the monarchy. That still seemed like madness to Harry, too. He knew she'd be a magnificent queen, but it just did not feel real. His Ruth as queen was too outlandish to contemplate.

But looking at her here, standing straight and somehow tall in her rich green gown and matching emerald and diamond tiara and flowing hair, her eyes flashing with strength and her pregnant body somehow enhancing her power, Harry could see it. She looked like a goddess, actually. The wisdom of Athena in her gray eyes, the regal motherhood of Hera in the curves of her body. Standing there, she transformed before Harry's very eyes from his Ruth to the Queen Louisa she become one day all too soon.

Emilia started to cry and the photoshoot had to stop. Ruth bent to pick up her daughter and hurry out of the room to feed her. It was past her dinnertime. And the spell was broken, bringing Harry back to reality. The reality for now, at least.


	51. Chapter 51

_Chapter Fifty-One _

Emilia giggled. Her laughter sounded like a little tinkling bell in between her attempts to move her lips as she mimicked her father. Harry sat on the floor, giving no thought about how difficult it might be to get up again, with the baby on a blanket on her back. He sang to her, old songs from his army days and folk songs his mother had sung to him when he and his brother were little. Emmy seemed to like it very much, so he just kept going.

To think that Harry had resisted this. He had not wanted to be taken from his job, to be forced to stay home all day every day. But with Ruth on bedrest again, there had not been much choice. They'd decided, long before Emmy was born, that they would not have their child raised by nannies. Yes, he and Ruth both had important duties that often kept them from home, but they were also flexible schedules. They could manage to only need the staff for those times when they were both absolutely unable to be with the baby. That had been the plan, anyway.

But then he'd gotten Ruth pregnant again and many of their plans had been sidelined. Ruth had been doing a few public appearances, allowing Harry to be back at work mostly fulltime instead of attending to royal things. It had been alright for most of the pregnancy until these final three weeks. Ruth's blood pressure was getting dangerous, and Doctor Parkins insisted that she remain resting. Bedrest and keeping stress-free meant that she could not be with Emmy every moment as Ruth had done when Emmy was a newborn.

As with most things, Ruth had stubbornly insisted she take care of everything herself until she couldn't any longer. She'd put Emilia down for a nap and fainted. Fiona had found her and roused her and called the doctor right away. There was no harm done to mother or infant or unborn baby. Everyone was perfectly alright, but it had scared Ruth into finally asking for some help.

She'd not asked Harry to take time off work, but he'd offered. He'd hated offering, he'd not wanted to. But he knew that the only thing that would make Ruth feel better and the best way for him to help was to be there. Ruth could rest and Harry could mind the baby and Erin would cover Foreign Intelligence and no one would worry.

He'd thought he would miss it. He thought he would be itching to go back to the capital and to his office. But he hadn't. He'd barely thought about it in days. Erin knew to call him if she needed him, but he did not feel the need to check in with her. He'd always loved the job and always been devoted to his duties. Recently, though, his duties had shifted. His love and devotion was not to the job. It was to his family. A less he'd learned not a moment too soon.

And now Harry could just sing to his baby girl. He still could not get over how much he loved her. Nearly to the point of pain, sometimes. His chest actually ached if he let himself think about it too much. Emilia was his child. His and Ruth's. She was theirs, born from their love. She was just shy of nine months old now and starting to develop a little personality. She liked when they talked to her, fixing her intent gaze on their lips and trying to mimic. She did not enjoy bath time or having her nappy changed, anything that required someone to undress her and disrupt her comfort. She finally slept very well and always woke up grumpy. Emilia was like her mother that way. She was also a very good eater and had started getting this awful habit of eating too much and making herself sick. If she continued drinking like that, she'd end up like her father and brother if they weren't careful.

But oh! How Harry adored this little girl. He laughed with her as she giggled at his silly songs. Her little arms reached out to him, and he offered her his finger, moving around in a little dance in time to his song. She giggled even more. Harry stopped singing just to lean in and kiss her chubby pink cheeks.

"Hate to interrupt, but Her Royal Highness has a message for you."

Harry sat up to see Fiona standing in the doorway. She had Wes—now nearly two years old—in her arms. He'd just woke up from his nap and rubbed his eyes with pudgy fists. Harry smiled to Wes and Fiona. "What's the message?" he asked.

"She said 'Tell Harry it's Mummy's turn,'" Fiona relayed.

He chuckled a bit at that. Ruth was just as enamored with their baby as he was, and the worst thing about this bedrest was that she could not get up to go see Emmy whenever she wanted. "Alright, Emmy, it's Mummy's turn," he murmured. He picked up the baby. She started to fuss. He knew she'd calm down in a moment. She just didn't enjoy being jostled and moved from place to place.

Fiona stood by, making sure he didn't need any help. But he was just fine.

That was another thing Harry had learned in the last week of being home and the last nine months of Emilia's life. He hadn't realized he'd be good with a baby. He really hadn't been around with Graham and Catherine, and Jane's resentment was such that she wouldn't let him do much when he did happen to be home. Now, though, it all seemed strangely easy with Emmy. She made her needs and her likes and her dislikes very known, and he'd always been a keen observer of human behavior. Even babies, it seemed. Or maybe it was just that she was his baby.

He smiled to himself, kissing her cheek again. His baby. She was his. All his. All Ruth's and his.

Harry hauled himself off the floor with Emmy safely in his arms. He crossed to the doorway and paused to say, "Hello, Wes."

Little Wes was very shy but he had taken a shine to Harry from the time he was very small, and Harry enjoyed spending time with the little boy. "Hi Missah Hawwy," he replied with his sweet toddler voice.

With a chuckle, Harry ruffled the boy's hair, making him laugh. "I'll come read you a story later, alright?"

Wes nodded excitedly. His mother then took him downstairs to get him a snack, and Harry went down the hall to see Ruth.

"Oh give her here!"

As soon as Harry walked through the bedroom doors, Ruth had her arms outstretched towards her daughter. She was nicely settled under the covers with her enormously pregnant belly. Harry came right over and handed over the baby.

Ruth cooed and snuggled with Emilia while Harry sat on the edge of the bed beside her. He reached beneath the sheet to greet his unborn child. Within a moment of touching bare skin, the baby kicked.

"How's the other little princess today?" he asked teasingly.

"The baby is fine. I'm sick of lying here, but what else is new?" Ruth grumbled. She did not indulge in Harry's hunch that their next baby was also going to be a girl.

"I won't apologize for getting you pregnant, but I am sorry you're having a hard time of it, darling," Harry said softly.

Ruth smiled affectionately. "Not too much longer now," she reasoned. "And then we can have two children under a year old."

He gave a wheezy chuckle. "What a nightmare."

She held Emmy in the crook of one arm and put her free hand on her belly. "You hear that? Your daddy says you're a nightmare!"

"No," he amended. "They're a dream come true. Baby Emmy and Baby No-Name."

Ruth rolled her eyes. The baby would be born in the next week or so but they still had not decided on a name. John Albert James Henry for a boy, as they'd decided the last time. But they had run the gamut of girl's names. Harry was pushing for Elizabeth, after Ruth's mother, but she was resistant. For all her wonderful qualities, Ruth could be a stubborn mule at times. She'd probably have an epiphany in the middle of the night at some point in the next week. Harry would just keep annoying her with name suggestions until then.

Harry gently rubbed her belly, and Ruth put her hand on top of his. Emmy was pulling at Ruth's ears and the unborn baby was kicking like mad. And for the moment, everything was quiet and perfectly wonderful.


	52. Chapter 52

_Chapter Fifty-Two_

It was less than a year ago, but Ruth did not remember it being like this the last time. A lot of it was like déjà vu, Harry sitting beside her on the bed and holding her hand. He pushed her hair off her sweaty face and tried to be encouraging. Ruth wanted to kill him. Then and now. She panted, barely being able to catch a breath. Breathing had not been so difficult last time, she was sure of that. But there was something this baby was doing, kicking her diaphragm or something. No matter how much Ruth tried to inhale, she couldn't seem to get any air. She was getting lightheaded, and the pain was so awful, she just wanted to scream. She didn't have enough air to scream. Was she crying? She felt like she might have been crying. There was no reprieve, no relief between pushes, no strength to push at all.

"Nearly there, just a bit more," Doctor Parkins said, urging Ruth to keep on going.

"Almost, Ruth," Harry added.

She could feel his arm around her, bracing her. If she'd been able to, she would have shoved him off. As it was, Ruth was quite sure she was about to pass out. The corners of her vision were going black. God, why couldn't she breathe? Was this baby going to kill her?

Then, when it felt as though she could not go on, relief washed over her. The pressure and the pain were gone. She felt her lungs clear, and she took an enormous gasp of air.

A squalling cry ripped through the air. And as the baby started to cry, Ruth knew then that she was crying, too.

"You have another perfect baby girl," Doctor Parkins announced. "We're going to clean her off and then she's all yours."

"It's all done, Ruth. You've done it, darling," Harry said, kissing her cheek and hugging her as best he could in their position.

Ruth just kept crying. Her body now just ached. Everything ached, and she was so tired. And she couldn't seem to stop sobbing.

Harry was starting to grow concerned. Ruth could hear his voice, but it sounded very far away. He was asking her what was wrong, asking what she needed, what he could do. Ruth couldn't seem to find the words. She couldn't seem to sort through her mind and find any sort of coherent thought. She started hyperventilating. "Doctor?" she heard Harry call out.

Then Doctor Parkins was there in front of her. A nurse was tending to the baby. "Can you hear me?"

Ruth nodded, at least being able to control herself enough for that.

The doctor put her hands on Ruth's cheeks, forcing her to be still and focus. "Close your mouth. Deep breath through your nose," she instructed. Ruth did what she was told. "Yes, just like that. Hold it for one…two…and out through your mouth. Good. Once more."

And after that second breath, Ruth was able to breathe normally. She slumped over against Harry.

"Better?"

"That was the worst bloody thing I've ever done," she said. The words were barely more than a whisper.

Harry chuckled and kissed her hair. "But you did it. It's all over."

"Never again. You swear to me right now, Harry Pearce. Never, ever again," she said. It was a strange time to discuss family planning, but Ruth wanted this out now before she got distracted by yet another newborn.

"I promise, Ruth. No more children. I'll have to…well, we'll figure out how to prevent it."

Doctor Parkins had been eavesdropping while checking Ruth's vitals and inserted, "I can book you for a vasectomy, Sir Harry."

"A what?"

"Technical term for male sterilization. I don't do the procedure myself, but I have a colleague at the hospital who is a national specialist. It's quick and mostly painless. You go in for the appointment and then right home after you're finished without any hospitalization, and you'll be completely healed in two weeks and unable to conceive after about twenty full emissions," she explained in her efficient physician sort of way. Ruth always liked that about her.

Harry was obviously taken aback. "We'll discuss it and I'll let you know," he said in a vague sort of way.

Ruth could feel how tense he was. And though her mind was still recovering from that slight breakdown, she thought the procedure sounded perfect. They'd talk about it later. Hopefully she'd remember. She never could be sure of herself anymore, what with the way the intense fluctuations of hormones had affected her ever since she'd conceived Emilia.

"Here we are!"

She sat up as the nurse approached with a pink bundle. The baby was handed to Ruth, who was barely strong enough to hold her. But hold her she did. She looked down at her baby and felt the same spark she had with Emmy. The spark of recognition. She'd held this little being in her body for all these months, and now they could finally meet properly. "Hello," Ruth whispered.

The baby was not crying, but she was making the strangest little noises and wiggling around. Very different from Emilia. But with the exception of her hair—this baby had a head of wispy dark hair nearly opposite from Emmy's blonde curls—the two looked nearly identical. Other than the hair, the baby looked just like her sister and just like Harry. And Ruth could not have been more delighted.

Harry hovered at Ruth's shoulder and reached over to stroke her little face with the back of his finger. "She's beautiful."

"She is," Ruth agreed. She would never, ever admit it aloud, but she was so relieved that her children were beautiful. Though she would have certainly found them beautiful as their mother, Ruth knew how difficult she'd found her life to be at times because she'd been so plain-looking all her life. She was a princess and it took a lot of effort and people to make her glamorous and beautiful. Maybe her little princesses would have an easier time of things. After all, isn't that what every parent wants? For things to be just a little better for their children? Or maybe Ruth was losing her mind again. It was still hard to hold on to any of her thoughts.

"She needs a name," Harry reminded her.

Ruth knew he was right, and in the few moments of labor when she'd been able to actually think, she'd been concerned that she didn't have a name for her new baby. Last time, she'd been able to think about how she was going through all of this to get to meet Emilia. This time, it was just 'the baby.'

Harry was looking down at the baby and thinking aloud, "I don't think she's an Elizabeth." Ruth agreed with that.

"Charlotte," she said suddenly.

"That wasn't one of the names on our list."

"I know. It was one of my mother's names. Elizabeth Charlotte Catherine. But look at her, Harry," Ruth insisted. "Her name is Charlotte."

"I think you're right," he murmured softly, full of awe at the realization.

"Of course I'm right. Haven't you learned that by now?" she teased.

Harry chuckled lightly at that. "Alright, Charlotte, what's the rest of your name, sweetheart?" he asked the little newborn. But of course, Charlotte chose that moment to start falling asleep.

After a few more minutes of quiet discussion, they decided on Charlotte Elizabeth Dianne Alexandra, giving their youngest daughter names from Ruth's mother and grandmother and from Harry's mother as well. It was quite a long name for such a little girl, but just like Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa, she'd grow into them.

Doctor Parkins and the nurses came in and out for a while. Ruth had gone into labor just after dinner and Charlotte was born at dawn. She'd arrived nearly a week early, so nothing was really prepared. Graham and Catherine would need to be called home from university. The king would need to be informed. And of course the notices would have to go out to the press.

Harry did not leave Ruth and Charlotte's side for the first two hours of the baby's life. But then he snuck out of the room while Ruth was getting another checkup with the doctor. When he returned, he was not alone.

Poor Emmy had been sleeping still when her father came to the nursery to wake her up. Her blonde curls were all a mess and she rubbed her bright blue eyes with her pudgy baby fist. Ruth held Charlotte in her arms and smiled to see her husband and elder daughter approach.

"Emmy, love, come meet your sister," Ruth said. There was no way of really knowing how much the baby understood just yet. She was nearly eleven months old and babbling up a storm. Not talking yet, but very close.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed with Emmy on his lap. "Emilia, this is Charlotte," he introduced.

Charlotte was settled for the moment, oblivious to the fact that she was meeting the first of her three siblings. Ruth figured that they'd have their whole lives to get to know each other, being so remarkably and almost embarrassingly close in age. They'd be in the same nursery after the first few months; Charlotte would stay in Ruth and Harry's room for a little while, just as Emilia had.

Emmy seemed to be very interested in her baby sister. She looked at her intently, trying to figure her out. Harry and Ruth both watched her, waiting for her assessment. Eventually, she looked up at her mother questioningly. Ruth pointed down at the baby and said, "Charlotte."

"Cha-lot," Emmy repeated.

Harry's face broke out into a huge grin. "Yes, sweetheart, that's Charlotte!"

Ruth was amazed. Stunned, really. Emilia had said her first word. Charlotte.


	53. Chapter 53

_Chapter Fifty-Three_

"Mumma!" came Emilia's tiny shriek.

Ruth sighed. "Yes, Emmy, I'm here, sweet girl." She was trying to pack up the last of their things to spend a few days at the palace. She'd never had to pack on behalf of two babies before. She'd be doing two of everything nowadays, it seemed.

Emmy's little face broke into a beaming smile, and she giggled, "Mumma!" as Ruth picked her up. Her little hands patted her mother's cheek, making Ruth laugh along with her.

"Did you just want to say hi, Emilia? Is that what you wanted?"

The baby nodded, still smiling.

Ruth could not get over it. Emmy was going to be a year old tomorrow. She was talking more and more. She understood things and she could say Mumma, Dada, Cha-lot, Grah, Caff-in, and Wes. Charlotte, Graham, and Catherine were names she couldn't quite get yet, but she knew who her sisters and brother were, and every single person around her was absolutely enamored with the sweet little blonde. And Emilia adored being adored, it seemed. She loved being the center of attention. She would even sometimes demand it, as she did now. Ruth, being busy as a milk machine for the new baby—Emmy had been weaned off her at about nine months, as Ruth entered the final few weeks of her second pregnancy—was more apt to set limits with Emilia. Graham and Catherine showered her with affection and did anything she wanted. But they did not live at Leister fulltime. It was Harry, the proudest father there ever was, who would bend to her little will without hesitation.

The sound of crying echoed down the hall. Ruth sighed. She knew what that meant. And sure enough, Harry entered a moment later, crying Charlotte in his arms. "Lunchtime," he announced.

"Time to trade," she replied. Ruth put Emilia down on the floor. She could stand on her own, but she wasn't quite walking yet. Harry handed Charlotte to Ruth and then picked up Emilia, who had been holding onto his trouser leg.

The little family went into the nursery. Ruth preferred to be in the rocking chair while she breastfed. She did not have to be, but that was habit. She undid herself and maneuvered so Charlotte could latch onto her breast. Harry, meanwhile, took Charlotte onto the floor to play with her.

"I've got nearly everything of ours packed. Do you have everything for the girls?" Ruth asked, running through her mental checklist.

"Yes," Harry answered. "I think so, at any rate. Spare bottles and nappies. Each of their baby blankets. Green for Emilia and purple for Charlotte. Three changes of clothes for each of them, just in case. I left out Mister Duck and Lambie since I figured they'd want to have them in the car."

Ruth smiled. Emilia had not been in the car more than two or three times in her life, as everything they needed was at Leister and people would come visit them. She would be much happier with her little yellow plush duckling. Charlotte, being just seven weeks old, would not care whether or not her plush lamb was with her. But Harry, bless him, had wanted so much to ensure that his daughters did not have to share everything, that the each got to have their own of anything they'd want. Emmy loved her duck, so Charlotte had to have a plush animal of her own.

"Do you know what your father's gotten for her?" Harry asked.

"No, he wouldn't tell me. But he did tell me she'd need to be looking her best. And when I got annoyed at that remark, he said that she always looks lovely and retracted the statement," she grumbled.

Harry chuckled at that, though his laugh was cut off when Emmy, trying to stand and walk, tipped forward and fell against his face. "Oof, you alright, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, Dada," Emmy replied. She was still smiling happily.

A moment later, Charlotte turned her head away, indicating that she was finished eating. Ruth put herself back together and grabbed the flannel to burp the baby. She made sure to keep her head turned away. After a year of feeding and burping babies, Ruth had gotten spit-up in her hair countless times. She had good methods of avoiding it by now.

After Charlotte had been relieved of any gas and had her nappy changed, the family was ready to go. Harry carried Emilia and Ruth carried Charlotte. Zaf and Dimitri carried the bags. Dimitri would be driving the car with Ruth and Harry and the children while Zaf would be driving the other car with Sam and Malcolm. Ruth had been long accustomed to the troubles caused by having a staff. She knew there were more people now because there was more to protect and she had more responsibilities. But she did miss the days when it was just Tom being moody as he followed behind Harry driving her around the capital when they went out on dinner dates.

In her arms, Charlotte yawned and let out the sweetest little noise. Ruth smiled. Things were certainly better this way.

The car ride was thankfully uneventful. Charlotte slept the whole time in Ruth's arms. Emilia stood on the seat beside Harry with his arm keeping her steady and her palms and nose pressed to the window as she looked at the countryside whiz by with awe and delight.

When they carried their daughters out of the car in front of the palace, Graham and Catherine, who had both gone straight to the palace from the university, met them at the top of the entrance steps. Ruth greeted them and suddenly had the strangest feeling wash over her. With Charlotte in her arms and Harry with Emilia and Graham and Catherine there, Ruth realized that this was the first time her whole family had been to the place that would eventually be their home until the day Ruth died. It was Charlotte's first visit to the palace. And after Harry's vasectomy last month, they knew for certain that they would not have any more children. All four of them were here now. One day relatively soon, Ruth would become queen. They'd all be living here, then. Hopefully not too soon. She thankfully had gotten through pregnancy and childbirth before becoming queen. She just hoped beyond hope that she'd get a little while longer to just be a mum before that fateful day arrived. Before she had to say goodbye to her beloved father and goodbye to her life as she knew it.

"Harry, could you take Charlotte and get everyone situated in our room?" she asked, once they all went inside and made all their greetings to each other. The staff started fussing after everyone and Ruth really wished they wouldn't.

"Here, let me see her," Catherine offered, taking Charlotte off Ruth's hands.

"Thanks," Ruth replied. She turned to Harry and Emmy behind her. "I've got to take this one with me for a minute."

Harry handed her the baby without hesitation but gave her a curious look. "Everything alright?" he asked quietly.

"We'll meet you upstairs," she replied, leaning in to give him a swift kiss in reassurance.

Without another word, Ruth carried Emilia with her through the halls of the palace. It still, in so many ways, felt like she was here to see her grandfather. It had been four years since King Richard died, three since King Edmund died. This was entering the fourth prosperous year of the reign of King James. Ruth had not spent as much time learning about the job itself as she should have. But three years ago, they were all rather panicked about the issue of an heir. That had been settled. Charlotte would be extremely dependent on Ruth's constant presence for a little while longer. But her temperament was wildly different than Emilia's already, so perhaps Ruth could take the baby with her. That was certainly something to consider.

Ruth shifted Emilia in her arms to pull open the enormous gilded door to the room she'd been looking for. The throne room. It was by far the most impressive and decorated room in the whole palace. For good reason, of course. It had been used for centuries to intimidate and inspire awe. Ruth had hated this room as a child. It was too grand, and she never felt comfortable there. That cold discomfort was not upon her now.

And that was why she knew she needed to take Emilia there now. Ruth had never had to be comfortable here before. She had always felt, when she was little, that this room was not for her. Uncle Edmund would be king. That had been a certainty since the moment Ruth was born. She had not prepared to ever sit on that throne. She had thought she'd never need to. She'd certainly never wanted to. Even now, she didn't want to. If given the choice, she would have declined the offer. But she did not have a choice. She would not shirk her duty. It was a duty but also a privilege. To lead the people of the nation, to protect and defend them, to work to improve their lives as best she could. It seemed like far too tall an order, to earn their trust and respect and love, to live up to the honor of being their queen.

But it was Ruth's role to fill, one day. And a long time after that, hopefully, it would be Emilia's, too. It was time she knew.

"This will be yours one day, sweet girl," Ruth murmured. She watched her daughter's blue eyes widen as she took in the glory of the room around them. All the gold gilding, the ivory inlay, the blue and red velvet and purple silk. "We're both going to be queen. First me, then you. I promise to give you as much preparation as I can. You will never have to worry about what to do. I'll make sure you know the way. You won't have to fall into it like I am. From the moment you were born, Emilia, you were assured your place. I wasn't, but hopefully I can make all the mistakes for you to learn from. Though I hope I don't make too many mistakes."

Ruth carried the baby over to the throne itself, up on its pedestal. She stood Emmy up on top of the seat, holding her hands to keep her steady.

"What do you think? You'll grow into it, I expect. Me, I'm done growing. It seems a bit too big for me to fit properly. Though unfortunately neither me nor your dad are very tall. You might end up small like me. I am sorry for that. But I think you look good here," Ruth praised. "Your blonde curls match the gold." She sighed, trying not to feel too melancholy about the whole thing. "Get used to it, Emilia. One day you're going to be Queen Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa of the House Everard."

"You know she'll probably be twice your age by the time she sits up there properly?"

She smiled and turned her head to look behind her. "You think I'm going to be queen till I'm in my nineties?"

King James crossed the room to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Yes, dear, I do. She'll have a long time to learn from you. I just worry you'll have to learn so much of it on your own, dear."

Ruth scooped Emmy into her arms and turned to hug her father. "We've still got some time. We can figure it out." Though Ruth did not know how true those words would turn out to be. Or how untrue. "How are you feeling?"

"More bad days than good, it seems. Well, not too bad. Okay days. But not too many good days anymore. Still, I'm doing alright. Walking around, eating and caring for myself still. And I get to celebrate my granddaughter's first birthday tomorrow. She's going to get some lovely portraits."

"Oh Dad, you're not!" Ruth whined.

He laughed and rubbed her back as he pulled her back into his arms. "Indulge a dying man, Ruth. And yes, I will be using that excuse for years to come, I think. I want to get portraits of her on her birthday."

"Alright, Dad," she conceded.

They were quiet for a moment, the three of them in each other's arms. Dad broke the silence eventually. "I'm glad you brought her here."

"I grew up hating this room. I didn't want her to feel that way."

"Do you still hate it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It doesn't scare me like it used to. It still feels too big for me, but I this I've…I've accepted it. I know I'll be here whether I want to be or not. Doesn't seem to be much good in being afraid of the inevitable," Ruth mused.

Dad kissed her forehead and did the same to Emilia. "I know the feeling," he said. "But we can focus on the future another time. I think we should focus on the present for now. I've got a whole long weekend with my baby granddaughters, and I'd like to spend as much as that time with the both of them as possible."

Ruth pulled back and readjusted Emilia in her arms. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

The three of them walked together and closed the door, leaving the throne room behind. For now.


	54. Chapter 54

_Chapter Fifty-Four_

Ruth felt like she was going to explode. Everything was too loud. There was too much going on. She couldn't keep up. It was all just too much!

They were supposed to be out the door to travel to the university to see Catherine graduate. Their eldest daughter was graduating third in her class, top in her department. Harry and Ruth were both so proud of her. She'd always worked so hard in school, and university had made her quite a serious student. She had gotten to have her fun and her independence, but she'd grown into a mature and brilliant young woman, now with the credentials to show for it. Harry was going to present her with a rather exorbitant gift on the occasion of her graduation, which had actually been Ruth's idea: full funding for an international trip for the next three months. The Royal Guard had arranged the whole thing for her safety, and she would have the freedom—with the security team, of course—to travel the world and see everything she'd spent these last four years learning in her colonial studies courses.

But as they were trying to leave on time, Ruth was contending with Emilia, now nearly two, having a rather spectacular screaming tantrum. Emmy was on the floor, bellowing at the top of her lungs and grabbing at her mother's leg and trying to shake it.

And if that wasn't enough, Ruth was trying to finish feeding Charlotte. It was by bottle, thankfully. Ruth had given her final breastfeed about a week ago. Her milk was nearly all gone, but her body's hormones were still quite fragile. Her reactions to things like her crying child were not entirely rational just yet. Sweet Charlotte was unperturbed by her sister's screeching on the floor below her.

The biggest problem, though, was Graham. He was shouting over Emmy's tantrum, giving Ruth what was perhaps the worst news she'd received since her uncle died.

"See the thing is, I'm already behind in my degree," he tried to explain.

Ruth wanted to snarl at him and tell him to take summer courses and catch up, but she could not seem to form words right now.

"And that's why it's the perfect time," he continued.

"It's never the perfect time!" she lamented, finding her voice. Though that voice did crack. Oh hell, she was going to start crying and ruin her makeup.

"Please just listen, Ruth," Graham implored.

"I am listening," she shouted over Emilia. "I'm listening to you tell me that you want to drop out of the best university in the country, one of the best in the entire world, and you want to throw it all away to waste your life!"

Graham's jaw dropped. "I'm not wasting my life by joining the army!"

"You getting killed is a waste of a very good life!" Ruth contradicted.

Before Graham could respond to that, Harry entered the room. "What on earth is going on here? I come home from the florist to find the staff cowering downstairs while my family creates chaos upstairs!"

Ruth's eyes were stinging with unshed tears as the lump in her throat threatened her more and more. Graham was at a loss. Emmy was still screaming. Harry looked to each of them with confusion.

"Alright, enough!" Harry bellowed.

His tone and volume were enough to terrify Emilia into muteness. Her tears slid silently down her red face and her little chin wobbled.

"Graham, take Emilia to get calmed down and cleaned up," he instructed. "Ruth and I need to talk."

"Come on, Emmy," Graham said gently. He picked up his little sister. She willingly allowed him to do so, finally letting go of her mother's leg.

When Graham closed the door behind him, Harry turned back to Ruth. "What the bloody hell is going on?" he asked in exasperation.

"Charlotte needed feeding. Emilia didn't want to be ignored, but I couldn't give her attention while feeding Charlotte, and Graham came in t-to tell me…" She trailed off. The words were just too hideous. She could not bear it.

"To tell you what?"

Christ, this was going to be awful. Harry was going to be livid. If Ruth had been upset about Graham's news, that was nothing compared to what Harry would do. But it would be better coming from her. She could calm him down before he went and murdered his son. "He's not going back to school in the fall. He wants to join the army instead."

"Oh that."

Ruth's jaw dropped. Harry had practically rolled his eyes dismissively. "What do you mean, 'oh that'?!" she demanded.

"Yes, he told me a week ago."

"A WEEK AGO!?"

"Ruth, you're upsetting the baby," Harry informed her calmly.

Sure enough, Charlotte spit the bottle out of her mouth and started fussing. Well, the bottle was almost empty anyway.

Ruth sighed and shifted her to rest against her shoulder on the flannel. She patted Charlotte's back and took a few deep breaths before turning her attention back to her husband.

"Graham told you he was going to join the army?"

He nodded. "We discussed it. I think it's a fine idea."

Ruth felt her heart drop to her stomach. "How could you possibly think that?"

Harry looked at her incredulously. "How could I not? Ruth, you do remember that I am still a ranked officer in the army? And we both worked in a branch of the army for many years."

"That's different!"

"Why?"

"I was an intelligence analyst. I wasn't a soldier, I worked at a desk in the capitol!"

"Yes, darling, I know that," he said patronizingly.

Ruth felt like she was going insane. "Harry, you were a soldier in the army. _After_ you got your education. And with the war on, you nearly died countless times over! Is that what you want for Graham?"

"He'll get his education eventually."

"That is a shockingly naïve statement from you," she snapped.

Harry grumbled a little. "He's a smart lad. And he likes school. He just…Ruth, he's not had the best time of it lately."

"You think I don't remember speaking to Graham after he got arrested? Being the only one in this family to see that he had a problem? You think I don't remember that our son spent two months in a rehabilitation clinic for alcohol addiction?"

"Well, strictly speaking he's _my_ son," Harry interjected flippantly.

That was what did it. That broke her heart.

Ruth was aware of Charlotte in her arms. She handed the baby to Harry and turned sharply and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She heard Charlotte start to cry from the jostling and the sudden loud noise. Ruth was crying too.

How could Harry say such a thing to her? How dare he say that Graham was just his son and not theirs? Even if Ruth had not given birth to that boy, she was now the only mother he had. He'd been eight years old when Jane died. Ruth had met him when he was eleven. He was twenty now. She had been in his life longer than Jane had. Surely that counted for something? Surely the four of them were a family all their own before Ruth had gotten pregnant and had Emmy and Charlotte? Did Harry think that Ruth thought of Graham and Catherine as any less of her children than the two she'd given birth to? Did she mean nothing to his life?

As she pressed a towel to her face to muffle her sobs, she heard talking on the other side of the door.

"Dad, Zaf says we'd better go if we don't want to be late," came Graham's voice.

"Yes, alright," Harry answered. "Ruth, we need to leave now."

No matter what Ruth was feeling, no matter how angry and hurt she was over this whole thing, she would not spoil the day for Catherine. That was the purpose of the day. It would not do for the whole family to not be there to support her. Never mind that Catherine, like Graham, was _Harry's_ and apparently Harry's alone, Catherine had been a very dear friend to Ruth. She'd not let Harry's inadvertent cruelty take away from Ruth being there to see Catherine graduate.

She forced herself to calm down. Her breaths were still shaky, but she'd managed to stop crying. There wasn't much she could do for her face. She wiped the smudged makeup away and did a few swipes with powder and mascara to freshen herself up a little. There wasn't anything she could do for her red, puffy eyes. Maybe her lipstick would distract from it.

Ruth walked out of the bathroom with her head high. She went past Harry, holding Charlotte still, and Graham, holding Emilia. They'd follow, she knew.

The five of them were all in the back of the limousine a minute later. Sometimes they took separate cars, but at events such as this, it was easier for Zaf and Dimitri to secure the one vehicle. Zoe, Graham's bodyguard, would be driving a separate car behind them. Beth, Catherine's bodyguard, was already at the university with a few other officers from Adam's Leister team to secure the university.

There was a tension-filled silence. Charlotte was napping in her father's arms. Emilia was very confused about the whole thing. She reached out to her mother and patted her arm. "Mummy, are you sad?" she asked.

Her speech was getting better and better every day, and in spite of herself, Ruth smiled. "I'll be alright, lovie," she answered, brushing back her daughter's blonde curls.

"I'm really sorry, Ruth," Graham offered. "I just think that the army would be the best thing for me right now. University wasn't good for me like it was for Cat. She did so well. And I just…didn't. I need more direction. And besides, I've always wanted to go into intelligence like you and Dad. I've got to join the army first. And I can finish my degree while I'm enlisted, after my training. I looked into it all already. It's not like we're anywhere close to going to war again. And I'm not interested in combat anyway. There's lots of things I can do, and if you're going to be queen, doesn't it make more sense if I serve the country, too?"

"It doesn't much matter what I think, Graham," Ruth answered coldly.

"Of course it does!" he disagreed.

"You're not my son," she reminded him, purposefully avoiding looking at Harry as she said those words.

Graham gaped at her. "The hell I'm not! That's an awful thing to say, Ruth. I know you're not my mother, but you…well, you sort of are. I always think of you and Dad as my parents."

Ruth felt that lump in her throat come back. She didn't dare speak.

"I think I may have misspoken," Harry ventured. "Ruth, darling, when I said that Graham was _my_ son, I only meant that you're not the only one who worries about him. And I wouldn't have ever allowed him to even consider anything I didn't think would be good for him. The army would not dare put a member of the royal family at risk. There's no need to get upset."

He had been doing quite well at making it up to her until that last remark. She whipped her head around to glare at him. "I don't think you're in any position to tell me whether there is or is not any need to get upset. But that's fine. Graham, I'm glad you've thought this through. I do wish you'd told me sooner. Though I suppose I'm not the easiest person to talk to, what with spending nearly three years being pregnant and breastfeeding babies and battling hormone fluctuations and post-partum sickness and depression all while serving as crown princess of this country as my father grows closer to death each and every day."

That certainly shut Harry and Graham up. The two of them looked at each other, not knowing what to do. Ruth just looked out the window and willed the rage and sadness to leave her. She did not often contemplate her circumstance. In a million ways, she was extremely fortunate. But it was just…well, it was just a lot to contend with. She had stumbled into a life that she had never wanted. The good parts of it were so, so good. But the difficult parts were not things that anyone other than Ruth had to deal with. The weight of the crown was burdening her more and more. Dad had been getting so much worse. The papers were starting to take note of his tired and haggard appearance. Ruth had been filling in everywhere she could. And she still got nauseous and nervous before each and every public appearance. Sam told her she was doing so well and getting much better speaking in public. But oh what she would not give to turn back the clock, to be on that yacht off the coast of Gambon with Harry on their honeymoon, just before the nightmare started to take shape. She would have given anything to wake up and find her grandfather still king.

But despite all the challenges that made her wish she could be anyone else in the world, Ruth would not give up her life for anything. Not even now, when everything felt awful. Because Emilia had rested her head against Ruth's arm and held her hand. And even from where she was sitting, Ruth could smell the distinct baby fresh smell of Charlotte napping in her father's arms. Yes, in spite of it all, Ruth knew she was fortunate. And when it was difficult, like now, there was still a lot to hold on to.


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating, it's been over a month, I know. October was a mad month for me, but now we're back to this tale. And in honor of Harry's birthday (the day I'm posting this), there is an M-rating for the end of this chapter.**

_Chapter Fifty-Five_

It was a truly magical night. Harry had done his best to plan something nice for them. It was worth celebrating, after all. True, the seventh wedding anniversary was not the biggest event, but it was the first anniversary they'd had since Ruth had finished with all the baby things.

Harry never would have phrased it like that to her face, knowing all too well how sensitive she got about motherhood things. But he did sort of lump it all together in his mind. Pregnancy and childbirth and breastfeeding. It was all miraculous, actually, and he was constantly in awe of what Ruth had done to grow their daughters inside her body and bring them into the world and feed them that way. And he'd had so little to do through all of that. Just walk on eggshells around her, since she'd been apt to burst into tears or a snarling rage at the smallest thing for a good three years there.

Three whole years. Christ, it felt like an eternity. And really, it was Harry's own fault. They'd tried so hard to conceive a child. Harry was sure it was his fault, since he was older and he'd utterly ruined his body through the various war-related trauma he'd barely survived. Even Ruth did not the full extent of what he went through in the war, and hopefully she'd never find out. But what it left them with was nearly a year of hormone injections and tests and carefully scheduled sex to increase their chances of having an heir to the throne. They'd gotten lucky with Emilia, and Harry had fallen madly in love with her from the moment he knew Ruth had that baby growing inside her. And if the pregnancy and bedrest and long labor wasn't enough, Harry had made Ruth go through it all over again. He'd actually talked to Doctor Parsons and they'd figured out that Ruth had only spent thirty-three days not being pregnant. Thirty-three days between when Emmy was born and Harry had seduced his wife and made love to her for the first time in months and got her pregnant again. Two babies in less than a year. On the one hand, he was quietly proud of his own virility. But knowing how Ruth had suffered, how horribly difficult it had been for her and then in turn for him in trying and failing to support her.

Thank god that was all over now. Charlotte had her first birthday, celebrated in an elaborate party at the palace with King James doting on his two little granddaughters. Ruth had been able to switch Charlotte to the bottle a few months before, which was best for everyone involved, so both babies were exclusively eating food now. And for the first time since their fourth wedding anniversary, Harry and Ruth could celebrate with champagne and sex that didn't need to be modified to account for her pregnant belly or overly sensitive breasts. They'd had plenty of sex after Charlotte was born—once Harry had gotten a vasectomy to ensure that they'd not have any future surprises—but their anniversary was a special event. Harry wanted to make it special.

For a whole week before, Harry put together the pieces of his plan. He had made arrangements at a restaurant in the capital and told the security team that he intended to drive Ruth himself in his own car. Adam nearly had a fit, but Harry was adamant. They figured out a way for Harry's plans to go forward and for Adam to be satisfied with the security arrangements. And at last, the day arrived.

Ruth was stuck, unfortunately, doing a speech at the opening of a new water treatment plant in the countryside. She was grumpy about it, as she always was about the royal duties. But it meant that Harry got to spend the day with his sweet baby daughters.

"Daddy, will you read to us?" Emilia asked for the thousandth time.

Harry never quite understood why she wanted him to read books to her. She would sit and listen for about thirty seconds before interrupting to ask a question and then getting up to do something else and ask more questions and chatter on and then ask him to read a different book.

Charlotte, on the other hand, was very quiet and sat where she was left. But she was somehow always in motion. Her little legs would flail around. Her ankles turned like tiny propellers. Her fingers reached at anything she could grab and fidget with. It wasn't a nervous habit, like Ruth had, but just constant movement.

But Harry was very happily at the whim of his girls. He took the book that Emmy had brought and he started to read again. And sure enough, she was up and wandering off to another part of the nursery before he'd even passed the first page. Harry was tired and just kept reading. Charlotte and her little propeller feet were a good audience, despite being distracting.

He was grateful when Ruth arrive home and came to see the girls. "Emilia, it's very rude to ignore your dad when he's reading you a story." She hadn't even said hello, just walked in and immediately knew what had happened and dealt with the issue. It reminded Harry of when they used to work together and she'd barge into his office to tell him something without even saying hello first. He smiled, enjoying the consistency of her little quirks.

"He's reading to Charlotte," Emmy said dismissively, playing with her blocks on the bookshelf. She was so little and yet shockingly eloquent. Harry figured she got that from Ruth. Most things they got from Ruth. Both girls had Ruth's eyes and all her brilliance, he was sure. They had Harry's nose and mouth and curly hair—though Charlotte's was dark like Ruth while Emilia was blonde like Harry and his elder children. All the best things they got from their mother, he was sure.

Ruth was undeterred by Emilia, however. "Did you or Charlotte ask for a story?" she asked knowingly.

Emmy looked up at her mother with a furrowed brow, clearly unsure how to answer that questions.

With a sigh, Ruth said, "Next time, do not ask for things you do not want, and if you do ask and change your mind, say so. Don't just leave your poor father reading when no one's listening."

"I listen!" Charlotte added. She wasn't speaking full sentences yet, but with her chatty sister and her naturally gifted mind, she'd been starting to talk quite early. And she understood everything, it seemed. Always watching, despite the fidgeting.

Ruth bent down to pick up their youngest child. "Daddy can read more to you tomorrow, okay? Fiona and Wes are going to be with you the rest of the day, won't that be nice?"

Charlotte's little face lit up. "Wes!" she exclaimed happily. She'd developed quite an attachment to Wesley Carter, now three. He, however, was just as attached to Emilia. All their parents were sure that he'd get used to Charlotte being around as well; she was just new to the dynamic that he'd had with Emmy for over a year. Surely all the children would be friends for the rest of their lives.

"Mummy, where you going?" Emmy asked curiously. Walking over to her parents and sister.

"Where _are_ you going," Harry corrected. It was automatic; they'd all been instructing the children in proper speech that way.

Emmy glanced at her father in acknowledgment of what he said, but she didn't bother to correct herself. Ruth just gave a small laugh. "We're going to dinner and spending the evening just us two. Seven years ago today was when we got married, and we're going to celebrate. It's called an anniversary," she explained.

"Why?" Emmy asked curiously.

"Because we love each other very much, and an anniversary is a nice way to celebrate that. Things can get very busy, so we like to set aside the special days just for us," Harry told her, hauling himself off the ground and standing up. "And it's time for Mummy and me to get ready to leave, so you two will have to entertain each other for a little while, alright?"

Emmy came and hugged Harry around his legs. He grinned and picked her up, briefly wondering how long he'd be able to do that, and kissed her cheek. He then leaned over to Charlotte in Ruth's arms and kissed her as well. Ruth then did the same.

"Alright, we'll see you tomorrow, girls," she said, putting Charlotte down.

Harry put Emmy down and added, "Have fun and be good!"

With that, he and his lovely wife left the nursery, closing the door behind them. "How were they today?" Ruth asked.

"Nothing noteworthy. I will say that Charlotte's propeller feet are extremely annoying but absolutely adorable, and I hope she never grows out of doing that," he said.

"She will," Ruth replied darkly. "Dad told me I used to do the same thing, but my grandmother scolded me and said it wasn't very princess-like and I was too afraid to do it ever again."

"Well, we won't be doing that to Charlotte," Harry pointed out.

"We wouldn't and Dad wouldn't, no, but Juliette might. Or any one of the other nobles. I worry sometimes that the world isn't very kind outside of our household. They're going to grow up much more in the spotlight than I ever had to."

Harry took Ruth's fidgeting hands as they walked to their rooms and kissed her fingertips. "We'll do the best we can. At some point, someone in the world is probably going to be mean to them. All we can do is make sure they're prepared to face it and to make sure they know they can come to us for anything they need."

Ruth looked at him in slight surprise.

Harry understood her reaction. He wasn't known for being the most sensitive of people. Kindness was not his first response in most circumstances. And this certainly was not how he parented his elder children, and Ruth knew it. She'd spent more time with his children in the years she'd known them that Harry had in their entire lives before that point. She had always been the kinder parent between them. Harry was more laissez-faire and cynical more of the time.

"I want to do better with Emmy and Charlotte," he explained. "I'm old and tired and I just want our little girls to be happy. I wasn't very present with Catherine and Graham, and I didn't actually regret it until we had the little ones."

Ruth smiled and kissed his cheek. "You're a wonderful father, Harry. I know you weren't always this way, but I know that no matter what, you have loved and protected all four of your children as best you could. You're just able to do more this time around."

Harry gazed at his wife and felt the besotted look on his own face. "All thanks to you. All thanks to what you've taught me, Ruth. It's been ten years since we had our first date and seven years since we were married, and everything in my life has been better in these last ten than in the thirty-plus before."

She grinned. "I love you very much, but we've got dinner reservations, I understand. You go shower, since I'm sure you've been crawling about on the floor with the girls all day, and I'm going to dress for dinner."

He did as he was told since she was right, he had been crawling around with their daughters all day. Charlotte liked to ride on his back like a horse, and it was more exertion for Harry than he'd expect.

While he showered and dressed, he shouted to Ruth in her dressing room, answering her questions. He'd not told her everything about what they were doing for dinner, only telling her that he wanted to reminisce about their early days. He would be wearing a blue shirt with a gray suit and black tie, just as he had on their second date. Their first date had been rather disastrous, though it had ended with them agreeing to try again so Ruth wouldn't be so nervous. The second date had gone significantly better, ending with Harry spending the night in her bed. And he knew that tonight would end the same. Though thankfully he got to spend every night in the bed they shared as husband and wife.

When Harry called to Ruth, telling her they needed to head out soon, she came rushing out, bumping into the sofa on her way. She may be Crown Princess Louisa, but it seemed she would always be Harry's clumsy Ruth.

But any clumsiness was forgotten when Harry saw what she was wearing. It was a purple dress that reached down to her knees. The dress had small cap sleeves and a very modest neckline, but a silk ribbon tied at the waist to show off her newly returned trim figure. And her hair was dark and shiny and curled softly around her shoulders. Her makeup was sultry and far more done up than he'd seen from her in quite a long time.

Harry gaped at her for a moment and then finally said, "You look like you did on our second date." He recalled her dress had been nearly this same color. Her hair and makeup had been the same.

"Not exactly, but I tried for a more grown-up version of that," she said, blushing prettily. "You look just the same, though. I'm glad we had the same idea."

He grinned. Recreating the second date and not the first was certainly on both their minds. "I like the grown-up version," he said.

Ruth brushed off that compliment, a habit that Harry hated. "I can't fit into anything like that anymore. And I unfortunately need significantly more infrastructure under my clothes. This was the best I could do."

In an attempt to keep from bickering on their special night, Harry chose not to chide her for speaking ill about herself. Yes, the decade had brought many changes to her body, but that wasn't a bad thing. Her body was different because she'd aged ten years and given birth to two children! Ah well. A topic of discussion for another time.

Harry had led Ruth out to his car, and she was extremely impressed that he'd convinced Adam to let him drive. Dimitri was following along in another car, just as Tom had done when Harry and Ruth had been dating. And when they arrived at the restaurant, Ruth was delighted to find that it was the same restaurant they'd gone to for their second date. Harry had rented out the whole place so they could have their privacy and the security team could make proper arrangements. Zaf and Dimitri and several others of Adam's officers were patrolling the restaurant and kitchen and stationed at every entrance.

They had a marvelous meal and drank champagne and wine and talked endlessly. It was rare nowadays that they had so much uninterrupted time. At home, they had the children to contend with. The phone always rang for some reason or other, whether it was Harry being called about foreign intelligence work or Ruth dealing with some sort of royal task. Even if they were in public, the press and the public were constantly around them. This was truly a wonderful treat for them.

Ruth looked absolutely radiant. Joyful and beautiful and more carefree than he'd seen in a very long time. Ever since their honeymoon, cut short because her grandfather had a heart attack, Ruth had been burdened by the weight of her life. And she was still burdened, he knew. But he hoped that for just this one night they could enjoy themselves as husband and wife and not Major Pearce or Sir Harry and Princess Louisa. Just Harry and Ruth. Just a tired, middle-aged man who loved his wife more than words could say. Just a slightly awkward intelligence analyst and the senior officer who was utterly entranced by her. Harry still, to this day, was not quite sure how he'd managed to be so lucky to catch Ruth's attention. He had worried that she'd agree to go to dinner with him, and now they'd been married for seven whole years. She truly was the best thing that had ever happened to him in all his life. Even with all the headache that her family caused him, he'd not regretted being with Ruth for a single moment.

They were both a little tipsy when the meal finally ended, so Harry asked Dimitri to drive them home. Harry didn't want to chance it on the long drive, and he much preferred to fool around with Ruth in the backseat. Zaf drove Harry's car back, and for the first time, Harry was glad to have a whole security staff.

The drive back to Leister was spent with Harry's hands up Ruth's skirt and her tongue in his mouth. They were making out like teenagers, even more than they had that night when Tom had honked the horn on his car to interrupt them when Harry drove her home from dinner. This was much more fun. And no one honked to interrupt. Though neither of them realized the car had stopped moving. They didn't break apart until Zaf came by to knock on the window. Harry had to remove his hands from her bare bum, and Ruth had to detach her lips from where they'd been sucking on Harry's neck. They got out of the car, red-faced and panting.

Zaf watched as the princess straightened her very wrinkled dress and noticed the purple blotches on Harry's neck. He grinned and whispered, "Well done, sir."

Any other time, Harry would have grumbled embarrassedly. But he was in such a good mood, nothing would bring him down. He just gave a smirk and a wink to Zaf as he took Ruth's hand and practically dragged her inside and up the stairs to their room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Harry took Ruth back into his arms and kissed her deeply. His hands searched the back of her dress for the zipper. But as soon as Ruth felt what he was doing, she pushed him back.

"Let me go get undressed and I'll meet you in bed," she offered.

"I think I can manage to get you undressed myself. It's much more fun my way," he pointed out cheekily.

But Ruth hesitated. She chewed her swollen lips, trying to find something to say.

Harry did not want his erection to dissipate, so he hoped to get this moving. "Ruth, darling, what's the matter?"

"We've been spending this wonderful evening like we did all those years ago, but…Harry, I don't look like I did ten years ago."

"Neither do I, Ruth," he replied. "And considering I'm your husband, I like to think I know what you look like."

"No, I know you do, but back then, you just took off my dress and my stockings and my knickers because that's all there was. I wasn't kidding when I said I couldn't wear things like that anymore…" she confessed nervously.

Harry had not realized until right that moment that alongside the mood swings and sensitivities and whatever else from the pregnancy and post-partum changes, Ruth had become unhappy with the changes in her body. She had never been self-conscious about such things with him before. But Harry would not allow his wife to think for one second that he did not love and desire every inch of her. "Why don't you let me give it a go?" he suggested.

Ruth hesitated again. "Just…turn off the light first."

"No, I don't think I can do that," he countered.

Her face betrayed her horror at that suggestion.

"Just trust me, darling, alright?"

That convinced her. She nodded, however reluctantly.

Harry set to work, then, turning her around and unzipping her dress. She had a slip and all sorts of foundation garments on underneath. Harry was undeterred. He reverently kissed the nape of her neck. Ruth stepped out of the dress pooled at her feet and took off her shoes at the same time. She lost a good three inches, but Harry quite liked how tiny she was. After all, he was not a tall man himself.

He lifted the slip off over her head and slowly traced his hands over her girdle and bra and knickers. They may have been foundation garments, but they were quite pretty. White and silk and little lace edges. "I quite like this," he whispered, fingering the lacy strap on her shoulder.

Ruth shuddered in his arms, melting into his touch. That was exactly what he wanted. He found the little hook and eye fastenings to the girdle and undid each one as he held Ruth's back flush against his chest. She could feel his erection through his trousers, pressing into her bum, and she wiggled herself against him as he continued to tease her with his light touches.

When the girdle came off, Ruth gave a great sigh of relief. She probably couldn't breathe well with that on. Poor dear.

Harry let go and turned Ruth around to kiss her. "To the bed, I think," he whispered against her lips.

But Ruth shook her head. "Not just yet," she countered.

Before Harry could insist, Ruth started removing his clothes. Well, that he could certainly allow. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, leaving him to take it off as she loosened his tie. And Harry's entire upper half was bare before he knew it. Ruth kissed her way down his chest. Her teeth grazed over his nipples, causing an electric jolt to his groin. He moaned her name as she sufficiently distracted him.

Then, all of a sudden, Ruth was on her knees and his trousers and trunks were around his ankles. She took his cock in her hand, pumping him a few times before her tongue darted out to trace over the head of him. His knees almost buckled then. And then she took him in her mouth and sucked him better than ever in his memory. His hand tangled in her hair, guiding how she moved on him.

"Jesus, Ruth, that's so good," he groaned. He indulged far longer than he should have. This was supposed to be about seducing Ruth, but she'd flipped the tables on him. She had a tendency to do that. She was by far the cleverest person in the world, and Harry was utterly weak to her charms.

Ruth stopped on her own, which was probably for the best. She stood up. "I don't want you to finish just yet. Besides, I'd rather not make a mess on the carpet," she explained, kissing him again.

Harry watched in dazed awe as she made her way to their bed and pulled the sheets back. He was still frozen while she put one leg up on the edge of the bed and removed her own stockings, possibly one of the most simple yet erotic things he'd ever seen.

But then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He freed his feet from his shoes and socks and the clothes littered around him and hurried to join Ruth in bed. He threw the covers off, making sure that she couldn't hide from him. He rid her of her bra and knickers as quick as he could. And then he indulged.

Her breasts were the most different thing about her, he thought. They were bigger than before. The skin was thinner and looser, and they were so very soft in his hands. Harry had to be careful, now that his daughters had made good use of their mother's milk; if he was a bit too rough, he could hurt her without meaning to. And so tonight, Harry's touch was gentle and he used only his tongue in exploring her breasts. He did not want to do anything by sucking or biting and inadvertently causing her discomfort. There would be time another night to test her, to experiment. Tonight he only wanted to ensure that she was comfortable and happy and pleasured. Ruth's little gasps and heaving breaths told him he was on the right track.

As Ruth writhed beneath him, Harry moved on, kissing down her belly. That, too, had changed. The skin was not as taut as it once was. She had stretch marks all over her. Most of them had faded from red to a pale purple and some were even starting to go to a silvery white. She'd held their beautiful babies in her belly, and it was incredible to remember just how big she'd gotten. She was thin and petite now. Not as thin and petite as she'd been a decade ago, but he wouldn't want her to be. Harry was nearly fifty. It wouldn't do for his wife to still have the body she'd had when she was in her early twenties.

Harry spread her legs and settled himself between her thighs. Her legs were almost exactly the same. And this, the hot, wet center of her, this was just the same. He may have had an altered memory of things, but Harry was rather sure that he'd never guess that she'd given birth to two children by the look and smell and taste of her.

"Oh god, Harry!" Ruth gasped. Her fingers gripped his thinning hair tightly, digging her nails into his scalp as he went down on her with gusto. He hoped to make her come twice this way. He could usually manage that. He'd certainly built her up enough. But it would all depend on how long he could control himself before the need to plunge his cock inside her proved too powerful to ignore. Even now, he was already having some difficulty.

Harry's lips and tongue worked her, and he took one hand off her hips and began using his fingers in concert with his mouth. He could feel her begin to flutter, and he wanted to push her over the edge. Ruth cried out and her body shook as she balanced right on the edge. Harry curled his fingers inside her, searching until she shattered. Almost without warning, her inner walls caught him in a vice grip. He lapped up the rush of wetness and carried her through her first orgasm, not relenting until a second came right on its heels.

Ruth's voice was hoarse as she called to him. "Please, Harry," she begged, pulling his hair and beckoning him toward her. She was still twitching with aftershocks, but he would not deny her. Nor would he deny himself.

He moved back up her body and kissed her deeply so she could taste herself on his tongue. But she could not kiss him too long, needing to gasp for air.

"I love you, Ruth," he said. His own body was trembling with need for her.

In answer, she lifted her legs for him to fit between. She cradled his body in her thighs as Harry lined himself up to her entrance and slowly pushed inside.

Though not normally one to talk much during sex, Harry found himself needing to speak to her, needing her to know through his words as well as his actions. "Ruth, my Ruth," he moaned. "Oh my beautiful darling, I love you."

"Yes, Harry, my love," Ruth called in response.

Neither of them was making much sense, but it didn't matter. They spoke of love as they made love, slowly and passionately. They were both overwhelmed by their need for each other until they finally finished, gasping and crying out each other's names.

Harry was not entirely sure what had happened. He woke up to find himself on his back with Ruth's whole body on top of his. Her cheek rested on his chest, and he thought he could feel her smiling.

"Ruth?" he croaked.

She hummed in response. "I love you, Harry," she whispered, pressing a kiss just above his heart. "Go to sleep."

He chuckled lightly, not wanting to disobey her. "Happy anniversary, darling," he said.

"I think this might be our best one ever," she said, mumbling sleepily.

"Me too," Harry replied. And then, before he knew it, he fell back to sleep again.


	56. Chapter 56

_Chapter Fifty-Six_

Harry had been looking forward to this. It was Saturday, he was taking the whole weekend away from work, and Ruth was finally able to take the entire day to herself.

Since the new year, she had been inundated with a very in-depth course on royalty. Both Emilia and Charlotte were walking and talking and eating proper food and very nearly toilet trained. Ruth was not needed to breastfeed or change diapers or put them down for naps. She did enjoy the latter of those tasks, but she knew where her duties lay now. Her father had been kind and understanding, holding on and allowing Juliette to fill in for him when he was in treatments or otherwise unable to attend to something or other. But it was Ruth on whose head the crown would land. And while King James had wanted Ruth to have the privilege of being a mother first and foremost while her children were young, the time for waiting was over. She had to focus on learning to be queen now.

And so she had been whisked off to various parts of the country for events nearly every day. When there wasn't an event, she was with her father and observing the tasks he performed each day. She learned the role of the monarch and the relationship with the Legislature, the Leader and its Members, the placation of the nobles, and the attentions to the colonies. Juliette had been doing the royal tour the last three years, which she enjoyed for the attention she received and which everyone else in the family enjoyed because it took her far away from them.

Harry had gotten used to having dinner and sometimes breakfast alone with the girls. They were well looked after while he was working, but Ruth was gone quite often. More than once, he'd not seen her from the time she kissed him goodbye in the morning until she slipped into bed beside him.

But she had told him she had a free day coming up and wanted to spend it in a very specific way. It was late in the summer now, and there was starting to get that lovely bite to the air in the mornings. And to Harry's shock, Ruth wanted to spend the day with the girls outside on the grounds of Leister Palace.

They woke up lazily, sharing a few kisses and hoping for maybe a little something more when a little knock came at their bedroom door.

"Yes?" Harry called, knowing it could only be a very small handful of people who would dare come to the door and also knowing that any of those people could find he and Ruth in bed together—thankfully not naked just yet—and not be bothered.

The door opened and two pairs of little feet padded across the rug. "Hi, Daddy," Emilia said shyly. She was holding Charlotte's hand.

Harry grinned to see their sweet little girls. "Hello, sweetheart. What are you doing in here?"

"Snuggle," Charlotte said simply. Her voice was soft and nervous, like Ruth's.

Ruth herself beamed with joy at her daughters. "That's a wonderful idea. Come on up, come snuggle with us for a little while before we have to get up for breakfast," she prompted.

They made space between them for their little girls to climb into bed with them. Emmy let got of Charlotte and bounded enthusiastically over the bed covers and flopped herself right on top of Harry. He coughed as he tried to regain his breath after his little girl knocked the wind out of him, but he was laughing and holding her tight in his arms. She giggled as he started kissing her cheeks. He'd been doing that since the day she was born. She'd probably grow up and hate it by the time she was about ten, but he was sure he'd never grow tired of the joyful sound of her laughter.

Charlotte was much more reserved than her elder sister, so she took her time crawling over the bed to plant herself right between her parents. Ruth, also the less exuberant parent, held Charlotte gently and kissed her softly, much in contrast to the energetic giggling going on with Harry and Emilia. But soon all four of them settled down, and Harry rolled over so he and Ruth were facing each other with their daughters cuddled between them. The only sound was of their soft breathing.

Harry looked over the children's curly heads to Ruth and they shared a smile. His heart warmed in his chest. He would have quite liked to start the day making love to his wife, but this was just as good. Catherine was off traveling in the care of her security team. Graham was on the army base just two hours away finishing his officer's training before returning to university to get his degree. Emilia and Charlotte were here in his arms with the rare combination of Emmy being quiet and Charlotte being still. Juliette was far away. King James was alive and well. For this one moment, everything was absolutely perfect.

The perfect moment was interrupted, however, by a growling of Harry's stomach. The girls—all three of them—started laughing.

"I think that means we have to get up, lovies. Dad's hungry. And so am I. Let's all get in dressing gowns and figure out what we want to eat, alright?" Ruth suggested, rousting the little ones from the bed. "I think today would be a good day for waffles, don't you?"

That earned cheers from the children, and Harry thought a bit of sausage and a couple waffles sounded like an incredible breakfast. Ruth got up with the girls and ushered them to their room to get them ready for breakfast. Harry hauled himself out of bed and stretched, his joints cracking with every movement. He'd be fifty at his next birthday, and he was not looking forward to it. Aging was a nasty business. He grumbled to himself about it as he made his way to the shower for a quick wash to wake him up.

Two hours later, waffles and sausage and coffee and juice consumed by all to great satisfaction, Harry and Ruth and Emmy and Charlotte were all walking hand in hand out through the back gardens of the palace.

"Mummy, where are we going?" Emmy asked curiously.

"We're going to the woods," Ruth answered.

"Why?" came Emmy's oft-repeated refrain.

Ruth smiled, always wonderfully patient with the curiosity of children. "When I was a little older than you are, I used to take a book from the library and come out here and find a tree I liked and I would read until it got too dark for me to see the words. And you're both too little to come out by yourself, but I want you to know these woods like I did and to feel comfortable with them. And we get to spend the whole day together, so isn't it nice to have it just be the four of us with no one else around?"

Charlotte was wiggling a little bit in Harry's grasp as they walked—slowly to keep up with her little legs—but he realized her fidgeting increased as Ruth spoke of going to the woods. "What's wrong, Charlotte?" he asked.

She looked up at him, squinting in the sunshine. "Woods are scary," she said simply.

Harry glanced at Ruth, who looked crestfallen. These woods were very important to her, he knew, and it was obviously disheartening that her children might not be as excited as she was to share in them. They all paused on their walk and Harry bent down to pick Charlotte up. "Ruth, why don't you and Emmy go on. Charlotte and I'll catch up in a minute," he suggested.

Ruth nodded and took Emilia's hand and continued down the path to the woods ahead.

"Am I scary, Charlotte?" he asked her, once Ruth and Emmy were out of earshot.

Her little brow furrowed. "Sometimes," she said truthfully. He nearly laughed at that. At least someone still recognized his capabilities.

But he tried a different tack. "What's scarier, me or the woods?"

She thought about that a moment. "Woods."

"Do you think I could protect you from whatever might be scary in the woods? You think I could scare it away if it ever scared you?"

Charlotte brightened. "Yes!"

Harry kissed her cheek. "Good. So just you remember that I'll always protect you from anything scary. And you don't have to be scared when I'm here. So why don't we go catch up to Mum and Emmy and explore?"

"Daddy, you stay with me?" she asked, slightly apprehensive again.

He hugged her close, feeling the desperate need to protect her from this and everything else in the whole world for the rest of her life. "I'll always be with you, sweetheart," he vowed.

Charlotte smiled serenely and patted Harry's cheek happily. "Okay, let's go," she agreed.

"Do you want to walk or do you want me to carry you?" he offered.

"Carry," she replied. "Run, catch up!"

Harry chuckled lightly. He may be pushing fifty, but he could still do this. "Alright, hold on tight," he warned. And once Charlotte was secure in his arms, he raced forward, running toward Ruth and Emmy and running right past him.

"Daddy! Daddy, we're back here!" Emmy shouted, thinking that he must have run past them by accident.

Charlotte was giggling up a storm. Harry and Ruth were both laughing as well as he jogged back to where the girls were strolling. "Gosh, I thought you'd already gotten much further," he teased Emilia.

"Do you want to race Dad to the trees?" Ruth asked the little girl next to her.

"Yeah!" Emmy shrieked with glee. And without another word, she let go of Ruth's hand and bolted down the path.

Harry glowered at Ruth for that trick. These girls were going to tire him out to be sure. Ruth just laughed and called, "Be careful!" after them as they all took off running.

Charlotte thought the whole thing was terribly funny and she giggled as Harry ran to catch up to Emilia. After all, it wouldn't do for her to get too far ahead. But she made it to the border of the forest and grabbed onto the trunk of a mighty oak tree, hugging it as she giggled.

"I win!" Emmy announced, breathing heavily and laughing all the while.

"So you did. Well done, sweetheart," Harry said. He put Charlotte back down on the ground and tried to hide how wiped out that short race made him. "And now you and Charlotte hold hands and go explore and don't go anywhere you can't see me. I'm going to wait for Mummy."

The girls did as they were told, going about ten feet down the path before finding a rock that interested them and bending down to look at it. Harry watched them, still getting his heart rate under control. Ruth sidled up beside him, putting her arms around his waist.

"I'm too old to be the father of two energetic little girls," he lamented quietly, still watching the girls as he held Ruth.

"If you start complaining that you're too old to be their father, I might start to think you're too old for other things, too," Ruth chided.

"Oh? Like what?"

She smirked and lowered her voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "Like going down on me in the shower or shagging me up against the wall."

"I might be too old for those things, too," he teased.

Ruth looked up at him, appalled.

He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. "How about this: if I get old and feeble, you can climb on top of me in my wheelchair and have your filthy way with me whenever you want. Deal?"

She was laughing again at that. "Alright, deal. But I do expect you to go down on me in the shower until you can't kneel down and get up on your own anymore."

"You have my word, Princess. I dedicate the whole strength of my knees to your pleasure," he said with feigned seriousness.

Ruth nudged him with another laugh. "Enough of that. Let's go play with the girls." She let go of him and went over to see what had interested their daughters so. Harry followed her with a smile.


	57. Chapter 57

_Chapter Fifty-Seven_

Harry woke up with a scowl. That happened a lot nowadays. It was difficult to wake without Ruth. It had been an entire week now that he'd been living apart from her, and it wasn't getting any easier. He naturally rolled over and reached to her side of the bed so he could hold her in his arms. But all he found was the cold emptiness where she hadn't slept.

The one consolation, however, came right on the heels of Harry waking. A soft knock sounded at the door, and Harry's hoarse voice called for entry. And sure enough, Emilia and Charlotte came padding through the room and climbed right up on the bed and each cuddled on either side of him.

"Good morning, Daddy," Charlotte said sweetly.

Harry kissed each of them. "Good morning, my darling girls."

They never really talked much. Girls aged three and four weren't really very skilled conversationalists. And Harry thought that his daughters were insightful enough to know that he wasn't much for inane chatter. Not first thing in the morning, at any rate. All he wanted was this, just lying and waking slowly with his marvelous children in his arms.

After all, Harry wasn't the only one who missed Ruth. It had taken Charlotte longer than Emmy to figure out precisely what was going on, but neither had stopped asking where Mummy was for the first four days. Harry had explained it to them many times, but serious matters are sometimes very difficult for small brains to understand.

As far as the children knew, their grandfather was Very Important but also absolutely devoted to them. And that was quite true. King James absolutely adored those little girls. He was forever doting on them, hugging and kissing them, bestowing the best and most extravagant gifts on them, and making sure they both knew that they were the most important little things in the whole world. They did not know, really, that he was king or what that meant. And they did not know that he was sick. He had been sick far longer than they'd been alive. He had been sick longer than Harry and Ruth had been married, in fact.

Harry tried not to think about it most of the time, the way things had changed so drastically from when Harry had gone to see King Richard to ask for his consent to marry Ruth till now. Back then, he imagined that he and Ruth would live in the Pearce manor in the capital for the rest of their lives. He thought the two of them would work side by side at Foreign Intelligence, making the very best of the department they had built together. He never pictured them having children together, but instead raising Catherine and Graham together and then welcoming grandchildren many years down the road, after they'd retired to happily live out their days. Ruth's royal status was one of slight inconvenience but nothing more. He thought he could just call her Princess Louisa to tease her, but it would be otherwise inconsequential. That was the life he was prepared for. That was the life he had wanted.

Instead, King Richard had died and King Edmund took the crown. Bloody Juliette hadn't been able to give the king the children he desperately needed, and he had died with no heir. King James was never supposed to accede to the throne, particularly not with the cancer that was very cautiously and carefully and secretively managed. Ruth was never supposed to be next in line, and he and Ruth were never supposed to be panicked about having children of their own in order to ensure the succession. But here they were.

It was certainly not all bad, of course. Emilia and Charlotte were the best things in all the world, and the whole family thought so. Harry did not regret them in the least, not for a single moment. He could hold them here in his arms when his beloved wife was far away.

A week ago, King James had taken a turn for the very worst. His condition had worsened so the doctors had increased the dosages of his treatment, only that treatment was too much for his weakened body to handle. He had fallen into a coma, and Ruth was called to his bedside.

She had called Harry from the palace as soon as she'd gotten to see her father and speak to the doctors. It was not as bad as they'd feared; he had woken up from the coma and was conscious intermittently, but he was so weak and tired that he was barely awake for more than a few minutes each day. Ruth did not want to leave him, so she sent for some of her things from Leister, and she had moved into the palace in the capital. It was the same room she and Harry usually stayed in during the holiday season, so it was not too unfamiliar.

But what it left them with was Harry sleeping apart from his wife for the first time since they were married. Even when they had been extraordinarily busy, she would always eventually climb into bed beside him and kiss him as she got up in the morning. Overnight stays anywhere had been done together.

It was hard on Harry, certainly, but he understood it. It was much harder on the girls. They had known their mother to be busy in the last year or so, but this was very different. They had not seen her in a week. Harry spent as much time with them as he could, but he still had to be available to speak to Erin over the phone or review things that were sent to him from Foreign Intelligence that absolutely needed his approval. Emmy was the more attention-hungry of the sisters, and she did not take well at all to both of her parents being unable to pay her any mind whenever she wanted them. He'd had to call Erin back only yesterday because Emilia had the most extraordinary tantrum. Charlotte got quite sullen whenever there was any sort of tension around. Emmy cried and screamed and rolled on the floor while Charlotte fidgeted her little hands and paced back and forth worriedly. It was all getting a little more than Harry could handle on his own.

Oh he had Malcolm and Fiona and the rest of the Leister staff to help out, but they weren't the girls' parents. Harry felt absolutely awful whenever someone else had to step in because Harry was getting overwhelmed. And, of course, knowing that he had completely neglected this aspect of parenthood the first two times around absolutely ate him alive with guilt. He had never seen Catherine or Graham throw a tantrum because he'd left Jane to handle it and, after she died, he'd been working overseas. His elder children had been strangers to him when they were this age. He desperately wanted to do better this time, but the guilt was still there. He really was trying.

"Daddy, can we have waffles for breakfast?" Emmy asked, breaking the silence of the morning.

Harry's heart sunk at that. Waffles were Ruth's favorite. It felt awful eating them without her, but he wanted to give the girls things to cheer them up. If Ruth's daily reports about her father's progress were any indication, the family would not have many happy times for quite some time. "I think that would be quite nice. Let's all get up and get dressed, and we can go down and have waffles."

The girls agreed. They got out of the bed and returned to their room where one of the maids would help them get dressed. Ruth usually did that, but Harry had been forced to admit defeat on that front. He himself got up and showered before dressing himself.

Waffles certainly cheered the girls. The chef at Leister had learned quite well what all the family enjoyed, and the winner for Charlotte at the moment was blueberry syrup. Harry found the stuff disgustingly sweet, but his baby daughter absolutely loved the stuff. Well, she wasn't a baby anymore. At three years old, Charlotte was now adept at using a fork all by herself. Harry helped cut her food for her and then she could feed herself just fine. Harry felt like it was only about a month ago that Ruth had stopped breastfeeding. The passage of time could be quite baffling at times.

Breakfast was interrupted by an unexpected arrival. "Any extra waffles?"

"Catherine!" Emilia squealed. She scrambled out of her chair and ran to her big sister and leapt into her arms.

Harry, too, got up to greet his eldest child. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Funny way to greet me," she snipped. But she smiled and shifted Emmy onto one side so she could hug her father. Harry kissed her cheek and found it absolutely baffling that he had a daughter who was the same height as he was.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he said, greeting her properly. "I'm gladder than I can say to see you."

She nodded, putting Emmy back on the ground. "I saw in the newspaper that the king is ill. And I figure if it's finally in the papers, it must be very serious. Thought you and Ruth could use a hand. Where is she?"

"Ruth is at the palace with her father. Has been for a week. Things are not going well. I think she'll call any day for the rest of the family to go join her. I think this might be it," Harry said grimly.

Catherine sighed sadly. "Guess I'm here just in time. I can stay with my sisters while you work. I imagine you're going to have to settle things on that end sooner rather than later."

Harry hadn't wanted to admit that just yet, but Catherine was absolutely correct. But she did not wait for his response. She went to take the empty seat next to Charlotte and greeted her gently, knowing that Charlotte was much less rambunctious than Emilia. Harry smiled to see all his daughters at one table, but he felt quite keenly the absence of both Ruth and Graham. Something told him he'd have the whole family back together quite soon, though not for the purpose any of them would have hoped for.


	58. Chapter 58

_Chapter Fifty-Eight_

The room was dark. Ruth hated the dark. Always had. She found darkness and shadow to be bad omens. She found no joy in anything but light. Sunshine and lamps and candles, those were her comforts. But the room had to be dark to allow Dad to stay calm and rested. Every time Ruth tried to turn on the lights, he would wince, and she would feel horrible about adding to his discomfort in any way.

She had spent almost two full weeks sitting at his bedside. She reviewed papers from the Legislature and took phone calls from his bedroom with a hushed voice and keeping out of the way of the doctors and nurses tending to him.

He was awake for a little while each day, and they'd been able to talk a little bit. It was hard for him to speak, and he tired so easily. The one good thing, if there were anything good about this situation, was that Dad was tired and in pain but at least had no cognitive problems. He knew what was going on and could follow everything Ruth was saying. He provided advice and assistance with the duties she was taking on for him.

It did not escape either of them that this was it. That Ruth was going to sit in this dim room until her father died and she would come out as queen. He would not recover. They'd spent the last year preparing for this, ensuring that Ruth knew what to do when the crown landed on her head. It was a matter of days now, at best.

Ruth had long since mourned the life she may have had. She had married Harry and hoped to live a quiet life by his side with his children and building their life together. None of it had gone as anticipated. Never again would they be able to do anything or go anywhere as just Harry and Ruth. She would always be Princess Louisa. Well, soon to be Queen Louisa.

The name sounded strange even in her own mind. She knew that if she spoke those words, they would taste bitter in her mouth. Queen Louisa was a person that Ruth did not know. More than that, Queen Louisa had to be a person that Ruth was not sure she could become.

That was the heart of it, really. There was no choice in the matter for Ruth, but she would have to become queen and figure out how to carry the burden and lead her country and her people, and she was absolutely scared to death. She could hardly give a single speech without getting tongue tied. She did not like meetings with the nobles or the Members of the Legislature, she was not comfortable being the center of attention and being the final word on things. Ruth had loved being an analyst because it allowed her to work on projects by herself and consult with others and deliver analysis to those in charge without having to make the decisions herself. She could be a brilliant right hand to someone in charge, she knew. She had worked so well with Harry in Foreign Intelligence all that time, and she had served very well assisting her father this last year. Sometimes she'd even enjoyed the royal duties, but that was when she had him to rely on, when she was just helping and not in charge of anything herself. That would not be the case very soon. She would have to be the end all of everything. The power and responsibility and attention that came with it did not appeal to her in the least. And despite the fact that both Dad and Harry had told her she'd be a marvelous queen, Ruth did not believe that she really had it in her. She could not bear to let down her father's memory or her family's expectations or her people's trust. Being queen was a tall order. And Ruth genuinely did not think she could do it. She would fail, and she would bring everything crashing down with her.

"Ruth?"

She looked up when she heard Dad softly call her name. He began coughing, and Ruth hurried from her seat under the lamp in the corner to his bedside. "I'm here, Dad," she said, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed and taking his hand when he shakily reached for her.

"I want…I want to talk to you."

Ruth smiled softly. "Of course. I like talking to you. You know that."

His breathing shuddered as he tried to chuckle. "Good," he whispered. "I like talking to you, too. I want to make sure you know how much. How much I've loved being your father. I couldn't have loved a daughter more. Never could have asked for a more perfect girl to call mine."

The words were beautiful and kind and loving, and while Dad was not shy about his affections, this was quite different. Ruth understood immediately what he was doing.

"You used to frighten me as a child, you were so quiet and so smart. You were always watching and learning, and you understood so much more than anyone ever expected. You're always like that, Ruth. Unexpected. People underestimate you. Even me. Because your talents are endless," he went on.

"Oh I don't know about that," she countered, blinking back the tears stinging her eyes. "I've got my faults like anyone. I'm shy and quiet, like you said. And I'm not very organized or graceful or elegant."

Dad smiled. "As I said. Unexpected. You're shy and quiet, but you aren't afraid to stand up and do what needs to be done. You're not what anyone expected in a princess, and that is the very best part. Because you are not clamoring for the spotlight and the power, you're the best person to have it."

Ruth tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Dad, I'm scared."

"I know," he replied. "I was too, when Edmund died. I never wanted this. I didn't know what to do. But I found a way through. I did what needed to be done even though I was scared. And you will too, won't you?"

"Of course."

"There you are. That's all you can do. All you can do is wake up each day and know that there are things you need to do and decisions you need to make. It has to be you. And because it has to be you, you'll rise to the occasion."

"But what if I can't?" she whispered.

His weak, shaky hand gave hers a squeeze. "You will. Because you must. But you must also remember that you won't be alone. The staff know what they're doing, and they'll help you. And you have Harry. I daresay he'll make sure you remember each and every day how wonderful you are. And before you know it, your girls will be ready to be princesses. Emilia will be there with you every step of the way as you lead her towards her destiny, just as I did with you these last few years."

"Dad, she's so little," Ruth lamented. Her voice cracked to be reminded of her sweet baby daughter on whose shoulders this weight would fall next.

"She'll grow. She'll grow and learn just as you did. She has the luxury of time and a mother who can help her better than your father was able to help you."

"You've been wonderful," she insisted.

"I've done the best I could. But I know your mother and grandmother would have been a greater help to you if they had been able to."

At that, he began coughing again. Ruth let go of his hand to quickly pour him some water and bring him the glass and a handkerchief. He spilled a bit as he tried to drink. She wiped away the wetness as best she could as he settled back down. His breathing was growing more and more ragged.

"I'm so sorry, Ruth," he said in a hoarse voice.

She shook her head and wiped the leaking corners of her eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You have been the best…" A sob escaped her, and she took a moment to compose herself again. "You have been the best father and the best grandfather and the best teacher and the best king. I have been so lucky," she told him.

"I love you so much, dear. I wish I could give you more time. I wish…I wish I didn't have to leave you."

Ruth could hardly hear his voice now. She leaned in close, not even caring anymore that she was openly crying. She'd never had to pretend to be strong and stoic in front of him.

His chest barely moved with his breaths now, and his heartbeat beneath Ruth's hand was very slow. In his last breath, he whispered, "Long live the queen."

With a deep sob, Ruth fell atop his chest and hugged her father close. She cried and pressed her face against him and found herself glad for the dimness of the room. The darkness fell over her in a way she had never before felt. Somewhere deep inside her, Ruth knew that darkness would be there to stay.

It only took a few minutes for her to stop crying and regain her breathing. When she had sufficiently calmed, Queen Louisa stood up to fetch the doctor. There were things to be done, and she would do them.


	59. Chapter 59

**A/N: More apologies for the long wait between updates. I was finishing up a couple other stories in the midst of the holiday season, and now I'm back to (hopefully) more regular updates here.**

_Chapter Fifty-Nine_

"The Leader of the Legislature is coming at eleven, and then you have a luncheon with the Coronation Committee headed by the Earl of Marchon, and at two, the designer is arriving to take measurements and discuss your wardrobe before then dressing you for dinner with the nobility."

Ruth listened to the flurry of her schedule from Jo. She'd been working with the King's secretary for the last few months as she worked closer with Dad, but now Jo was Ruth's own secretary. Sam, Ruth's former secretary, was still on staff and worked in the scheduling office still.

She had been queen for less than twenty-four hours and already hated it. Everything that Jo said caused Ruth to fill with anxious nausea. But perhaps that was grief. It was hard to believe that Dad was gone. That Ruth had said goodbye to him just yesterday. But the palace had everything in hand. They'd been preparing on their own for far longer than Ruth fully knew, but she had her own problems on that front.

With a small internal sigh, Ruth asked, "What am I doing between now and eleven when the Leader arrives?"

"The Head of the Royal Guard is waiting for an audience with you to discuss security assignments, Your Majesty."

That title made Ruth wince. As did the news that she did not, as she'd hoped, have time between now and then. "And when can I see my children?" she asked coolly.

Jo looked at her with worry in her eyes, obviously not knowing how to respond. But Ruth knew the answer. She had been woken from Harry's arms at first light and been dressed in mourning clothes and been given coffee and breakfast in about ten minutes before Jo whisked her off to Dad's study. Well, her study now. The Queen's study.

Ruth's life was no longer her own. The shift had happened literally overnight, as Ruth knew it would. She spent yesterday as a daughter in mourning. She said goodbye to her father, she allowed the staff to take care of everything. She had spent the day with her husband and children, crying and explaining what had happened. Harry had been wonderful, making sure Emilia and Charlotte understood and were then sent off to be with Catherine so Ruth could be alone. Harry had held her in his arms as she cried, had forced her to drink water and remember to eat a little bit, and then helped her settled into bed when she was too exhausted from grief to be awake any longer. But now, today, she was queen.

Queen Louisa had duties to attend to. Ruth could be a mother and wife. Even Princess Louisa could be allowed time with her husband and daughters. But not Queen Louisa. This was the way it had to be. For now, at least.

"It's alright, I understand," Ruth said, saving Jo from the discomfort of trying to tell the queen that there just wasn't space in the schedule for her to see her children. "Harry will be with them, and I can check on them after dinner. They'll be asleep by then, but maybe tomorrow we can put it in the schedule?" It was an overly hopeful statement, she knew, but Ruth would not allow motherhood to end for her completely, not if she could help it.

Jo nodded. "I'll see what I can do, Your Majesty. Though I have consulted with Malcolm regarding the search for a nanny for the princesses."

Ruth had to force herself to take a deep breath and not leap up shouting from her desk. "I hope that won't be necessary, but please let Harry and I discuss it before anything is done."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Jo answered kindly. "And now if you're ready to discuss security…"

"Yes, alright. You can send the Head of the Royal Guard in. And please call for Harry, since he should be part of this conversation as well."

Jo went to fetch Harry and let the visitor in. Ruth stood to make a polite greeting. The Head of the Royal Guard was someone with whom Ruth only ever had passing familiarity. Luckily the changes in monarchy had not come with a change in security, as this current Head of the Royal Guard had worked with Ruth's grandfather. But that wasn't saying much, as Ruth was now the fourth monarch in seven years.

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

Ruth watched as she was bowed to, something that still felt absolutely ridiculous, but she knew better than to complain. "Hello, Ros," she greeted kindly.

The Head of the Royal Guard was a woman about the same age as Ruth. Ros Myers had risen through the ranks frightfully fast but her abilities and sense of control spoke well for her. She had a strong sense of duty to each of the kings she had served since taking on the position just a year before King Richard died. She worked closely with Adam Carter at Leister Palace, and Ruth and Harry both put their faith in Adam. And if Adam respected and appreciated Ros, they all certainly would as well.

"I'm afraid I don't quite know what this meeting is about, only that you're here to talk to me," Ruth said. "But I've asked Jo to get Harry so he can hear whatever you need to say. He's the soldier, after all."

"Now that your family is going to be moved from Leister to here, I've needed to reshuffle some of the security details. Sergeant Pearce will be moved to the army base here at the capital. Ms. Pearce is going to be residing here in the palace with the rest of the family."

"Oh is she?" Ruth asked, not having been privy to Catherine's plans. She'd come home from her travels when the king had been ill in order to help Harry with Emmy and Charlotte, but Ruth had assumed she'd be leaving again.

Ros nodded. "I spoke with her this morning. I needed to know her plans in order to make the security assignments. She will now have one bodyguard instead of a full team required during her travels. Danny Hunter is very good, he'll be assigned to Ms. Pearce."

The door to the study opened and Harry walked in. "I was summoned?" he asked.

Despite everything, Ruth couldn't help smiling at her husband's cheek. "Yes, thank you. I thought you should be part of the security discussions. You know Ros," she said, inviting Harry in.

Harry shook hands with Ros. "Good morning, Major Pearce," Ros greeted politely. The two of them were of similar sensibilities with their military background. Ruth had hoped that they might get along. All of this with security was more than Ruth really wanted to deal with. Having Harry take it on would be a great help.

Ros went on to explain that Zaf and Dimitri would remain as personal bodyguards to Harry and Ruth, respectively, and that there would be an additional team of security personnel whenever any member of the royal family left the palace and there would be a full team at the palace itself.

"Are there heightened threats now that she's queen?" Harry asked Ros.

Ruth did not much like being referred to as though she were not in the room, but Harry was taking over just as she'd wanted, so she wouldn't make a fuss now.

"We are keeping out ear to the ground," Ros replied. "There are always threats to the monarch, some more credible than others. The news of the king's death is still new, so there's not much we know now."

"I want to be kept informed. Weekly briefings at the very least," Harry insisted.

"Oh is that really necessary?" Ruth interjected.

Harry turned to her with a frown. "My job is to be the royal consort. I haven't got anything else to do but look after our daughters and make sure you're safe. Both are things I take very seriously, Ruth," he chided.

She just nodded. The thought that there would be any real security risk to her was so foreign. But she was a long way from being an unimportant member of the royal family back with it was just Tom following her around when she lived and worked in the capital on her own.

Ros and Harry continued discussing security arrangements that Ruth could hardly bring herself to really focus on too closely. It was just after ten in the morning and she was already exhausted. And there was a full day ahead. Meeting and meetings and meetings. Everything that Ruth, as queen, had to pay attention to.

All she wanted to do was go back to bed and snuggle up with her daughters and her husband and not be bothered. But those days were behind her now. Such simple pleasures might never be hers ever again. She'd feared as much, long before the reality of being queen was upon her. But Ruth knew it was coming. She knew what was required of her. There was no use being too upset about something she couldn't control.

Today would be an adjustment. But it was the first day of the rest of her life. Best get used to it.


End file.
